#seashore path

[kirtiabsract]

[yumeren]

the grains in the hourglass grotesquely swollen. ── .✦ phainon. In Okhema, you never did learn how to track time beneath the eternal sunlight. cw: cisfem reader, descriptions of animal death/mild gore, arguably dubcon sexual content due to having sex with another version of someone unknowingly and they do not volunteer this information knowing you think they are someone else but also Themself, and heavyhanded metaphors. 3.4 spoilers. the beginning and end are written in screenplay format sorry and my bad. this is arguably only angst but i think it should be taken more as the intermission before suffering ends.

ao3 link | wc: 6k

In there, hard work has no reward.

—Drowning in Wheat, John Kinsella

EXT. VORTEX OF GENESIS — SPACE

PAN to reveal LYCURGUS. He stands beside the TIDAL BASIN and surveys the starry projection of the twelve COREFLAMES. Lying in the tidal basin is a STRING OF CODE, taking the form of a human and bleeding out. The tidal basin is stained with black, turning its water murky. Visual glitches, framed in red, appear to be spreading from this black stain.

LYCURGUS: Does this endless cycle not tire you so? The primum mobile HATE always chooses this path. It ever weaves an ever-growing net. The more variables struggle, the more entangled in the experiment they become.

STRING OF CODE: I want to go home. I just want to go home. Please, let me go home.

LYCURGUS: You are home. You are nothing more than redundant lines of code in the computation of δ-me13. Your code has not been cannibalized only because you have become too tangled in the twelve factors. Even you are searching for the answer, crude and primitive your methods may be. But it will tire of this farce eventually. Hate is unending, but soon the hate of the Electrical Signal Sequence will no longer be enough. It will ascend and devour the cosmos.

STRING OF CODE: You’re lying.

LYCURGUS: You will be subsumed in the enormity of its hate.

PAN to constellation drawing the shape of of WORLDBEARING among swirling nebula. The twelve points circling a four-pointed star were once beautiful. Now it is the horrible knot of twelve winding number series.

LYCURGUS: It should rejoice. You and all else of this experiment will be solidified into the Bane of Erudition.

STRING OF CODE: He won’t.

LYCURGUS: We had this conversation many times before. Your logical reasoning for such a conclusion has never been shared. This, I suppose, is inevitable of a faulty line of code.

Entry-hour: you woke to the rays of sunlight. Parting hour: you drew the curtains over your window, watching as the sun lit the fabric from the inside and illuminated its flaws. Sometimes, you slept with a pillow over your head, as if that could ward off the unending dawn. 

You ached to see a sunset, just once more; to see the moon arc across the sky overhead. This was not how Aquila painted the sky; you’d wracked your memories for Aquila, the Sky Titan, and found only stories the rest of Okhema thought you mad for. The sun, fastened to the chariot pulled by lions, racing across the sky. The departure of the evening star, born from a seashore meeting where the Most High briefly fell in love with a mortal woman. There were no Titans, even as Aquila’s thousand mad eyes gazed down upon the insignificant creatures marring the landscape.

Once, you’d drawn a crude map in the dirt with a twig that’d fallen from a tree before it could grow into anything meaningful. Phainon dropped down beside you, curious and a steady weight just behind you, leaning forward enough you could almost see the glimpse of his white hair in the periphery. “What does Amphoreus look like?” you’d asked him, makeshift brush halted by sudden paralysis at the enormity of the task.

“Castrum Kremnos is to the southwest,” Phainon said, “but more west than south.” He reached past you to imprint his finger into the dirt. Aedes Elysiae, the elusive home of his you would never see, was so far south it bordered the edge of the world. The Grove of Epiphany was northeast.

You mapped as Phainon instructed. The world was too small. You set aside the twig and stared at the messy approximation of what might be Amphoreus. You had not come from this stretch of the world. This was the entirety of the world. “What’s beyond the sea?” you asked at last, while Phainon etched figures made of lines at random cities. Professor Anaxa at the Grove, his ruthless teacher; Lady Tribbie, Trianne, and Trinnon, three identical demigods holding hands around Okhema.

“More of the sea?”

“Yes, but—” You traced the edges of your map. “Surely it’s more than just that.”

Phainon looked at you, puzzled. “What else would it be?”

“A wall,” you said without thinking.

Phainon fixed you with a look of utmost confusion. “A wall.” 

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” you said, shying away with your flimsy excuse. “Don’t you get tired of the sun never setting?”

“You get used to it,” he told you, reaching out sympathetically to trace an apologetic shape on your shoulder. “The children never learn to be scared of the dark.”

“But when the dark comes, it’ll be worse,” you said. “Scarier, I mean.”

The sun always set eventually. The darkness always came. The empire, limping towards its inevitable sunset. All the salt of the sea, originating from one awful misstep—don’t look back. Don’t look back. The wife who looked back. The wife who ate the apple. The wife who died repeating the lie of her husband’s ledger, named for sapphires and buried in sand so shallow the maggots ate the skin from her bones. The wife was made to give an excuse to punish the men they married; the wife as a death sentence, luring man to mortality. Death because of the wife, salt because of the wife, the wife, the wife— 

Phainon took your hand, his hand curling around your fingers. His thumb pressed into the bones of your hand. Calling your name he asked, “Are you alright?”

You blinked away the darkness narrowing your field of view. It was sunny—it always was—and Phainon was giving you a look of concern, sky-blue eyes soft with barely-sprouted distress.

“Yes,” you said. “Sorry,” you said. “I just—” You shrugged, giving up. “I think I need a nap.”

If the furiae warrior had its way, you would be crushed into unrecognizable smears of gore, your bones rummaged from the mess and ground into a fine white powder. The furiae warrior did not have its way. Instead, you were nursing a horrible ache in your back. Hyacine insisted upon seeing to you herself, though you knew her insistence was not really hers but a product of Phainon’s worrying. 

“I’ll need you to take this off,” Hyacine said gently, sweetly, voice like soft bells in the wind. She touched a soft, open palm to your lower back and a pitiful noise wrenched out of you. “Off you go,” Hyacine said to Phainon, allowing you the dignity of pretending she’d not heard your helpless prey-animal noise.

“But—” 

“Lord Phainon,” Hyacine said with a surprising sternness, “you’re bothering my patient!”

You spoke up, “I don’t mind if he stays.” 

The truth was you did mind. You were horrified at the idea—but worse was the risk of being left alone. Once, in your childhood, the memory now softened around the edges by time, you’d gotten a horrible piece of wood stuck in your foot. You’d not looked where you were running along the beach, and you had limped back to your father crying as if you’d been run through with a spear. He’d coaxed you inside and then held you still as your mother pried out the splinter. You’d kicked and screamed and sobbed, furious at your parents for bringing you into a world where you could experience such awful pain. When it was over, you felt as if you’d cried your body dry; your mother made you drink and your father brought you figs and insisted you eat. You’d wanted to starve and wither away into nothing, spiteful in the way only a child could be.

“Alright,” Hyacine said, gentle again. “Help her with that,” she instructed Phainon.

Phainon unfastened the golden clasps at your shoulders, keeping much of your chiton’s shape and structure. He was courteous not to point out that he was undressing you, or that you could not quite move your arms to do so without horrible pain. He helped you gather the linen into a clump so you could hold it tight against your chest. It did not wholly preserve your modesty—the cold air against your sides and now naked back made sure of that—but you did not want to be so exposed to your closest friend in all of Okhema. Even through your discomfort, you could not shake the terror of being displayed.

A hand, warm and enormous, came to rest against the faint protrusion of your spine. You whimpered, curling in on yourself in some animal need to flinch away from acknowledgement of your weak spot.

“Lord Phainon,” chided Hyacine.

“Sorry,” he said, skittering around to linger beside your knee hanging over the examination table. Watching your face, he dropped his hand onto your knee. You were glad you could not feel his hand through the fabric.

You schooled your expression. “Is it bad?”

“What?” Phainon blinked hard. “Oh, no, no, it’s not bad, it just—” 

“Bruised soft tissue,” Hyacine filled in. She set up something behind you and you resisted the urge to turn around and look, certain it would only hurt your back. “The cartilage,” she went on, tracing one finger up your spine, “right here. But you’re lucky; this could’ve been a broken bone!”

The color drained from Phainon’s face. You nodded, looking elsewhere.

You were not to massage or apply heat to your back—neither of which you were capable of doing anyway—and Hyacine gently ordered you avoid any honey brew until she said otherwise. With rest and icing the bruise, you would be back to normal within a month. The invisible, tiny links in your tissue had to rebuild itself gradually, so Hyacine could do little for you beyond numb the worst of the inflammation of your nerves. While Hyacine refastened the clasps of your chiton, she merrily decided, “Lord Phainon will help you while you recover!”

“What?”

“Right,” Phainon said immediately, perking up like a called hound.

“No,” you said, turning to look over your shoulder at Hyacine. “No, I’ll be fine, really.” 

Hyacine’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, a sly smile on her face. Your skin erupted into gooseflesh. “It’s for Lord Phainon,” she said in a theatrical whisper, “this way he won’t be such a nuisance to the other Heirs.” 

“Hyacine!” said Phainon, sounding scandalized.

“What?” She batted her lashes innocently. “Lady Aglaea said you needed a break. What did you think I said?”

So Phainon escorted you home, fussing the whole way as if you’d had both legs broken; he did not appreciate your snide comment about this. You let him ferry you over the threshold balanced upon his forearm, lest you fall and shatter your spine on the life-threatening two steps.

“You’re a worrywart,” you accused Phainon once he’d finally set you down; gingerly, as if you were a glass sculpture.

“I didn’t know you’d run out and face Titankin,” he said, frowning. He fixed the hair around your face, taking several tries to decide he wanted it tucked behind your ear. “I just don’t see why you’d…”

You sighed. “Are you a strong swimmer?”

“I suppose.” Phainon sat on the floor beside the klinai, resting his cheek against the cushion as he looked up at you. “Why?”

“How far can you swim?” you pressed, reaching out to card your fingers through his hair. 

“How should I know?”

“Well,” you said, “I think I swam across the sea to get here. In Amphoreus, I mean.” 

Phainon hummed thoughtfully. “From where?”

“I don’t know. Just—across the sea.” He closed his eyes as you changed the angle of your fingers, brushing against his scalp. “The easiest thing to do is drown,” you went on, “you can drown in the bath, in a puddle. So there’s never sure safety. Sometimes…” You cast about for the words. “When you stand at the edge of high places, that feeling you get? It’s like that. I don’t mean to, I just can’t help it.”

“Good thing you have me, then,” Phainon said without opening his eyes. He draped an elbow across your lap. “I’ll keep you from jumping off cliffs and diving into trenches. What’s the appeal?”

You never did say. Some part of you, still half-stupid from the memory of pain, could not stomach the idea that you might peel back yourself and show Phainon something he resonated with. He was not— Could not— What mattered was he was there, though you did not know why, and all you wanted was to somehow, someway lessen the abstract specter of suffering.

Once, you were a moth dreaming a dream.

Your dream was not very complex—dreaming as a moth was already a tall order as it was, as your tiny brain constantly had to reshape the shape of itself, stealing cells that had once made up your mouth until you had only wings, your fuzzy antennae, and your abdomen that was always hungry. It did not matter: you had no mouth and you only dreamed, and in the dream moths did not need to eat. You lived in vast golden sea and rested atop small stone walls when your wings tired, unnoticed by the birds overhead.

While you were a moth, and with your newly complex brain at the expense of your longevity, you were able to learn things you hadn’t before. Had the sky always been so blue? The breeze, what a blessing! To allow the wind beneath your wings to carry you, softly caressing the nerves within. Had anyone known moths could feel? You thought maybe even you would uncover the mysteries of love and the universe. Why had the scholars never once asked a moth their thoughts? 

But you had no mouth, so you supposed you would never be able to tell them anyway.

In your moth-spun dreams, there was a rabbit that’d swam across the sea. She had not listened when her rabbit parents and rabbit aunts warned her swimming was a death sentence for rabbits, and maybe she had not cared. Now she was across the sea, and there were no other rabbits for her. Beneath the roots of an old tree, the rabbit made a burrow and decided she would spend her life cataloguing whatever was beautiful. This was no easy task: every blade of grass, every clump of dirt, each whisper of a grain—these were all achingly beautiful. Who had made the world so beautiful? The rabbit did not invent God to explain this. The rabbit thought God would not make a land across the sea without rabbits, would not make her heart so fragile and frantic it could kill her just from one bad scare.

The rabbit had one bad scare, again and again: a wolf in the hills. It watched indifferently as the rabbit crossed through her rabbit-less village, hopping along the dirt path and kicking up a cloud of dust. It watched as she found apples and took them home for baking. It watched, unimpressed, as the rabbit baked a loaf of bread and then apple pie despite a lack of kitchen supplies. The wolf did not care the rabbit could do the impossible, beyond what logic dictated for the rabbit. 

She tried, once, to venture into the hills, curious of the only eyes she’d seen throughout the quiet, empty village. It was fine there were no rabbits across the sea—that kind of thing happened, the rabbit supposed, when none of your siblings and uncles and grandparents and ancient ancestors decided to swim—but she thought there would be someone. What if everyone had gone to some great party and only she wasn’t invited? 

So, the wolf. The rabbit did not see that its eyes were molten gold. The rabbit did not even know gold existed. Colors, your ever-shifting moth brain said, were notoriously unreliable. The rabbit hopped up the hill.

It shuffled further into the high grass. The rabbit bounded closer; the wolf burst into a quick trot. 

“Why are you afraid of me?” the rabbit did not say, because she had only learned to bake, not talk. The wolf did not reply to the rabbit’s unspoken question and disappeared from sight. Even from the logic of the dreamer, you could not see what became of the wolf.

This was always your dream. The rabbit opened her eyes. She wandered the roads. The rabbit closed her eyes. The rabbit drowned before she ever reached the shore. The rabbit, the rabbit, the rabbit. Once, the closest your dream ever came to a nightmare, a man caught the rabbit in both hands and ripped a leg right off.

“You can have it back,” he’d said, tossing the mess of torn sinew carelessly into the grass. “I only wanted a foot.” Then he was gone.

The rabbit had cried and cried, until the crying was so momentous her flighty rabbit heart stopped completely. The wolf slunk from between the high grass, fur matted. In your dream, the wolf circled the dead rabbit, sniffed her lifeless body, and curled up around the cooling corpse.

You, a voiceless moth, could neither weep nor wonder at the strange turn your dream inside a dream had taken. 

Phainon’s moods fluctuated without rhyme or reason. When Professor Anaxa dissolved to golden dust, so said the Heirs that’d watched, he came home with a closed-off expression and then put his head in your lap, arms about your waist. It had been too firm of a grip, too crushing, but you’d said nothing. You’d stroked at his hair and told him sweet nonsense he could only half-understand, dredged up from your childhood memories. At first you’d started sleeping together only because the stress was eating him, driving him mad, and everyone insisted they’d see him in two places at once, but he wasn’t, he wasn’t, why didn’t anyone listen— So you locked your heart in a box and threw it into the sea. You spread your legs and promised you expected nothing, wanted nothing, and Lady Aglaea once told you there was no need to be so selfless.

“There is no future,” you’d told her, tired. “That’s what the prophecy says, isn’t it?”

Prince Mydei had come back from Castrum Kremnos, stomping up to Phainon and fighting him in the streets until Lady Aglaea’s golden threads intervened. You learned only later, when Hyacine cleaned the wounds smeared with blood as Phainon insisted he’d no idea what he’d done to provoke the Demigod of Strife. I’ll fucking kill you, Mydei had said, which was not so strange except with the terrible calm with which he’d said it. Phainon had been in Okhema, aiding Lady Aglaea and settling petty disputes among citizens. Mydei swore on the memory of his mother the Deliverer had been in Castrum Kremnos, making an awful mess, and then tried to murder him for no conceivable reason. Sneaky and underhanded, at that. Who the fuck do you think you are? Phainon laughed when he recounted the story to you. A deep, unspeakable dread had settled in your stomach.

Professor Anaxa’s death was worse than Mydei’s sudden hatred. Mydei was at least alive.

“I’m tired of saying goodbye,” he said into the pleats of your chiton. 

“I know,” you said. You could say nothing else. “I’m sorry.”

Phainon left late in the night, though of course it was still light as ever. You waited and then decided you could not, bothering only to put on shoes and search through the streets of Okhema for him. You made the journey to the Marmoreal Palace to see the baths; you traversed every side street surrounding Marmoreal Market. You ventured to the furthest outskirts of the city, childhood fears welling up in you. You roamed Kephale Plaza, knowing you looked mad and not caring.

You found him towards the end of the Path of Parting, the snaking road of onyx marble that haunted your dreams so. Always a road, always leading somewhere new. Phainon was staring up at the sky, as if he could divine meaning from the false clouds.

“Please don’t go,” you said. The tremor of your voice shocked the pensive stillness of his stature; you felt inexplicably close to tears as his gaze ran over you. “Please, don’t, I know it’s horrible, but I—” 

“Beloved,” he said softly, something he’d never called you before, and your defenses failed; tears slipped past your lower lashes. Phainon hoisted you up off your feet, one arm balanced beneath your rear while his free hand ran soothing patterns up your spine. “There you are,” he said, guiding your face into the crook of his neck, against the sun tattoo that fascinated you so. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry.”

His tenderness only encouraged your tears. Soon, you were making horrible gasping noises, clutching his shoulders. He held you through the crying. He hummed a tune you thought you recognized. He pressed a featherlight kiss to the shell of your ear.

Finally, you calmed. The mortification of it came at once. “I’m sorry,” you started. 

“I hope you weren’t crying over me,” Phainon said.

“How can I not?” You nosed against the column of his throat. “It isn’t fair, and I know Professor Anaxa was important to you, and Mydei’s been so horrible to you ever since he became a demigod—” 

“Coreflames are a heavy burden,” Phainon shushed you. “Don’t cry over that.”

Miserably, you said, “I don’t want you to have to be a demigod.”

Phainon brought a strand of your hair to his lips. “Sometimes,” he said, “it helps to think of it as a dream. It only seems like forever when you’re in it.”

He took you home—to your tiny house, where you rarely slept in your own bed. He gently touched your back and asked, “Does this hurt?” You’d no idea why it might, but you told him it did not. Phainon pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, the bridge of your nose, your cheek, your chin.

“You won’t have to see me be a demigod,” he told you quietly.

“How do you know?”

“The Titans told me in a dream.” Phainon let his forehead rest against yours, gazing down at you with such intensity you reflexively closed your eyes. “Just once,” he said, “I’d take you to Aedes Elysiae.”

He would fuck you in the golden wheat fields, he said, speaking so frankly you were unsure if he was trying to seduce you or simply paint a more vivid picture. Your favorite place would be the dock and the tiny bay at the south of the village, and you would swim out so far the other villagers would always think you in danger of drowning. You’d push him onto his back in the wooden cart and then straddle his hips, letting the bumpy road do the work. After, he would feed you grapes and lick the sweetness from your mouth. At night, you slept with your hands intertwined, legs locked together: two puzzle pieces, once combined, impossible to separate again.

“You can fuck me in Okhema, too,” you’d finally said, wilting at the soft, sweet tone he’d spoken with.

“You’d have already blessed me with children in Aedes Elysiae,” Phainon said, and this, of all things, was what led his hands to roam beneath your chiton. You blinked, momentarily stupified, and he only leaned closer to press his next words against your lips. “You don’t want to raise children in Okhema, but you’d ask me for them if we were home.”

“Phainon,” you said when you’d finally found your voice again. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I miss you,” he said simply. Then, with a touch of wry humor: “I never have you for long enough.”

You whispered, “Why are you flirting with me?”

Phainon withdrew slightly. An unfamiliar expression settled on his features. “I can’t help it.”

Seduced you were; Phainon coaxed you out of your clothes and then crushed you flat with his weight atop you, murmuring sweet nothings you could not wholly comprehend. He had seen you naked before—you had let him, just the few times, when you were sure you had enough silphium and almond roots, finish inside you despite the terror such risks brought. You made a high-pitched noise when he lifted you long enough only to settle a pillow beneath your lower back, opening your hips at a new angle.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you said in a rush. Phainon paused in the midst of descending towards your chest, eyes flicking up to your face. “I don’t— I’m out of silphium,” you said, face warming.

He dropped a soft kiss to your mouth, chaste and without tongue or teeth. “That’s fine,” he said when he pulled away, “you don’t need any if I only make you cum.”

“Phainon—”

Your complaints, if you ever had them, never quite materialized; Phainon kissed you sweetly through his fingers in your cunt, grinding leisurely to ensure you felt the texture, his palm settled against your clit. Once, twice; by the third, you were senselessly bartering for a break, tears in your eyes for an entirely new reason. You begged him to stop, to give you a break, and then came to the conclusion he would if he fucked you, so you begged for that next. Phainon flipped you onto your stomach and softly mouthed at your spine, tongue tracing one vertebra in particular.

When you were sure he was going to fuck you through the mattress, his hand settled atop yours. He said your name in your ear and intertwined his fingers with yours, holding the soft shell of skin between his teeth. 

The grain-filled hourglass, decorated with fool’s gold. An Amphorean King once asked Cerces what the essence of the state once. Cerces folded their hands, pretended to think, and said: “Gold.”

You learned this story in the early hours before Okhema fully woke, Phainon half-asleep as he turned the hourglass over again. The King turned to gold, the worthless kind the couldn’t be spent—he was already dead, after all, and Thanatos took no coin—and instead a wheat farmer was made God. “No, just god,” Phainon corrected you through a yawn. You could not hear the difference. The gold Cerces meant was grain: empires lived only if they could be fed, and it was always the sign of looming disaster when the empire began to cannibalize itself.

“I heard a different story,” you said when he’d finished, watching the grains whisk against each other into the bottom chamber. “The hourglass was invented because of love.”

“Hmm?”

“That’s what I was told growing up,” you said. You thought of telling the story to your children, abstractions of tomorrow, and found you could not picture it. “A man made it for his wife. ‘When the chamber is full, you know soon I will be home. If I run late, forgive me and give it another turn.’ That’s what he told her. The grains were a promise their time had become a circle; they could not help but return back to each other.”

When you were still a moth, you had only one visitor to your golden fields. You fluttered from the silphium leaves to the stalks of wheat and marveled at your unending hunger. You would die starving with nothing to be done about it; your ever-shifting brain found this novel rather than terrifying.

The stranger did not mind if you settled about their shoulder. You nestled into their warm skin, missing the skin you’d never had, and they let you do as you pleased. Your antennae, fuzzy and unwieldy, did not tickle as you thought they might. They looked to the sky, searching for something your compound eyes could not see for the great distance. You were far more interested in the millions of hairs at the nape of their neck. What joy! An infinitely repeating pattern, for the sake of— What? Your moth wisdom could not solve this.

You lost count, or your memory deliberately discarded unnecessary data. For a long time, the stranger did not come at all, and you could do nothing but dream you were dreaming, bringing the rabbit back to life though she would always die and sometimes she would be eaten in great detail. Flesh shorn by teeth. The smear of blood across a mouth. The rabbit did not remember. Lucky her! Lucky her.

You dreamed so long you forgot part of you was still in the waking world, oblivious to the unending march of time. Your wings no longer worked. Your abdomen was furiously melting you from the inside out, acids building up without any other ambition now that you’d taken their one purpose. For a moth, you’d lived a good, long life, so you laid to die upon the stone wall, expecting to be blown away by a gust of breeze and lost in the gold forever.

“Don’t do this,” the stranger said to you, gently cupping you in their hands. The blood of millions, burned into the palms. You thought the blood was warm, so you snuggled closer, delighted by the new texture from the lines in their hands against your frail, dying body. Again, with greater urgency: “Don’t do this.”

Sorry, you thought, though only because it was what was polite. Feeling generous, you shared a secret: Moths can’t really sleep. It wasn’t my dream. But it was nice to be there. I’m glad you were there.

You died in the stranger’s hands, who grieved horribly for you, one simple moth that’d forever lost its kin. To your relief, someone else dreamed of the rabbit instead.

She let the man rip off her leg, no longer forgetting. She dragged herself with her front paws across the bloodied field, smearing red across her fur, and returned to the mess of her leg. The rabbit sighed, though really she wanted to cry. No more crying. Rabbits couldn’t cry anyway, and she no longer had you to bend the rules of the dream for her. The leg, then: flat teeth sank into the fur and flesh. The toughness of uncooked meat. She could not chew it but eventually, holding it in her mouth for so long blood seeped from both corners, it was finally possible for her to swallow.

Far in the hills, the wolf howled and wailed. The rabbit ignored this. How joyless, to do the same thing again and again. She knew eventually she could eat herself away until nothing was left.

No more ripped legs. No more crying wolves.

“I think I was meant to be born a nymph,” you said one day without preamble.

You were leaning against the lip of the bath, knees drawn up to your chest in the Starlight Pool. Phainon often refused to step foot in the chilled waters, but insisted he accompany you. “So I can be there when you turn into a block of ice, and be the first to say I told you so once you’ve melted,” he’d said. Phainon almost always spent his time lounging on a nearby klinai, dragged closer to whatever edge of the pool you’d settled in. He regularly helped himself to your tray of snacks while you were unable to stop him from pilfering your figs and grapes, though he at least had the manners to save some fruit for you.

“A nymph?” Phainon repeated, hand stilling midway to deposit a grape in his open mouth. His hand lowered. Beneath his messy fringe, you saw the furrow of his brows, creasing his forehead. “The golden butterflies, you mean?”

“No,” you said, then turned your head so you could make your own face of confusion at your knees. What else could you mean? As soon as you’d said it, you’d no idea why. Perhaps part of the process of the cold water purifying your mind was dredging up every stupid thought you had. “I don’t think I’d be gold,” you recovered, muscles tensing as the water rippled from another patron’s shifting.

More and more, you’d get awful headaches. The chittering of the black tide, trapped in your ears and always muttering. On the worst days, you thought you could make out the words: sky, sea, sword. Moon, corpse, cleaver. Your only hope was frequent soaks within the Starlight Pool. Phainon had suggested the Dawn Pool, so you might sleep better, but you did not want to sleep. You dropped your chin atop a knee and then turned your head, letting your cheek rest on the bone instead.

“What color, then?” Phainon asked, finally recovering and popping three grapes into his mouth.

You graciously ignored the complete depletion of your grapes. You liked figs better anyway. “I don’t know.” Closing your eyes, you asked, “What do you think?”

“Hmm. I think white,” Phainon said.

You hummed. Plain and colorless, he meant, but you supposed you had asked.

Later, when you could stand the frigid water no longer, you reluctantly split your last fig with Phainon, though he had the sense to feign guilt when you reminded him of your lost grapes. “Well,” you said, “I hope my fruits were payment enough for wasting your lucid hour.” Phainon had never ending appointments through action hour and sometimes you’d hear how he was running errands on opposite sides of Okhema simultaneously. You cast about for your leather sandals and stood up to find Phainon looking at you with a pronounced pout. “What?”

“Can’t I enjoy my time with you?” he said. “I thought we were friends.”

The persistent murmur of black tide, crowding against the back of your skull and reaching towards your ears from the inside. “I know you’re busy,” you said, bringing a hand to your temple as if that would chase away the looming headache. You would curl up at home and try to pretend the unending light could not reach you. “You must have better things to do than hear about how I was robbed of my life as a nymph.”

So earnestly you were sure he was making fun of you, Phainon said, “I’m glad you’re human instead.”

RABBIT: I still love you.

REVERSE SHOT to reveal RABBIT is staring up at Khaslana, the lone observer sat amongst the prohedria. This is not a stageplay but someone’s dream. The MOTH is no longer dreaming. No one, not even Khaslana, can remember the number of dreamers.

KHASLANA: You’re still dreaming.

RABBIT: You’re dreaming, too. Aren’t you?

The lights dim. The rabbit leaves the stage, hopping delicately, the tuft of her tail white as snow. From the stage to the prohedria, the rabbit finds a vantage point and puts one soft paw against Khaslana’s chest.

KHASLANA: You’ll burn yourself.

He gently moves the rabbit’s paw. The rabbit makes a face, one very nuanced among rabbits, but no one can parse its meaning. She stomps a foot in frustration. This is the foot once ripped from her body in a dreamer’s dream. Somewhere, there is blood staining the grass. The rabbit bleeds red. If one with golden blood were gutted in those memory-softened fields, no one would notice the blood until it touched something else.

RABBIT: Find me when I’m human. 

KHASLANA: I’ve found you through millions of Coreflames. 

RABBIT: Find me again. I miss you. I still love you.

KHASLANA: I killed you, you know.

RABBIT: I know.

The unseen orchestra begins to play a slow song on the strings.

RABBIT: You’re stuck in the worst dream of any of us. But you never hurt me.

KHASLANA: I killed you. I watched you die.

RABBIT: I was always going to die. Right?

The rabbit’s ears twitch towards the orchestra. Khaslana closes his eyes. The rabbit lifts one paw and turns towards the darkness beyond the half-circle of seats.

RABBIT: I think I remember my dream now.

KHASLANA: You’re still dreaming.

RABBIT: Then I’ll find you in the morning.

The sky splits and the lights go out, as if they were never there at all. The painting calling itself the sky peels back its outer face. No more music. No more orchestra. The divine hand of GOD carves a message in the stars: HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME.

KHASLANA: Goodnight. Goodnight. I wish you a softer dream.

RABBIT: Find me in the wheat. I love you. I love you.

end notes.

thanks for reading if anyone did! i wrote this for myself but told myself maybe someone out there might want to read it, too. there is a whole separate document keeping track of the repetition of words and phrases, symbols, and so forth. so it was a pretty normal exercise and very much not a sign of insanity. from the bottom of my heart: my bad.

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

The Prince - Chapter Seven

A/N: Hi friends! I can't say it enough, thank you so much for all of your love on this story. I was so worried when I was drafting it that I was writing nothing, so thank you so much for your support! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Like before, please see tag list in comments.

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 4.8k Synopsis: As their remaining hope dies out, the reader takes Jeyne's advice.

Warnings: smut!

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

You get on a ship to Dragonstone early the next morning. You don't see Jace before you leave, and you don't even entertain the thought of looking for him.

It’s a two day trip to Dragonstone, and throughout most of the journey you stand against the railing, watching the water crash against the ship over and over. You feel like the water, a little bit. No matter what you do, what actions you take to be careful, it’s hit after hit, to you and those around you.

The trip is a silent one, and when the castle is finally visible, it suddenly dawns on your how alone you'll be here. The castle is mostly abandoned save a few necessary staff. Even the crew that surrounds you now provide some kind of background noise, some escape from inside your head.

The quiet might be a blessing, though, you realize. In the Red Keep, there was always a member of House Targaryen distracting you from your task. After what Jeyne had said about Lord Blacktyde, you needed to finally focus on finding a husband.

The crew lets you off the ship without fuss, dropping your case on the pier next to you. They are on their way to Pentos, and for a moment, you consider running back aboard and going with them. Resettling in a strange country seems easier than navigating through the mess you made here.

The warden is waiting for you at the end of the dock. He greets and leads you towards the castle, saying very little to you on the walk up. As you get closer, you take in the dark castle. It’s not as large as the Red Keep, but the inside is so empty that it might as well be. When you walk inside, your footsteps echo all the way up to your quarters.

You are given a room that looks out onto the bay. Once the door closes behind the warden, you walk out there, letting the cool breeze off the sea fill your lungs. Somehow, the air feels different here.

It’s peaceful here. For a moment you delude yourself that you could hide out here forever. It’s large enough that it would take a little while for anyone to locate you if hidden. But then a cry breaks over the horizon, and you realize why that plan would never work.

A green dragon's silhouette breaks across the horizon. The sight of Vermax does not surprise you. Without realizing it, you knew Jace would follow you. Maybe that's why you had walked out here, you had instinctually known he would be there.

Vermax banks into a landing on the seashore, far down from the dock you arrived at. You watch Jace approach the castle. The wind whips the curls around his face and the cape across his back. The doors to the castle open before he can reach them, sight of his dragon tipping them off as well. The warden greets him, much heartier than he did you.

Jace’s eyes glance up for a minute but do a double take when he sees you watching. He smiles, and the look soothes you.

Moments later, he is at your door. When you don’t answer right away, you hear him laugh.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice warm, “I already saw you, so don’t try to hide.”

“I would never dream of hiding from you, Your Highness,” you say, opening the door for him. His good humor falls just a little bit when you close it behind him.

“I heard what happened,” he says.

“I assumed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything,” you say, fiddling with a ring on your finger to keep from looking at him. “And besides, it doesn’t matter,” you say with a sigh.

“Why not?”

“Because we knew this was where this path would lead us.”

“Y/N,” he starts with a sigh.

“We knew,” you say quietly, frowning at him. He looks like he wants to say more, but knows that whatever point he'll make is moot.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because it’s my fault we’re in this mess.”

“Jace," you say with a sad laugh, "I kissed you the first time.” His dark eyes meet yours.

“I could have left you alone,” he says seriously.

“Could you have?” you ask, studying his face. “Truly?”

“I could have tried."

“Well, it doesn’t matter now," you say, walking into the room, fiddling with the furniture around you, just to keep your hands busy. Nerves build inside of you as you ask, "What did Baela say?”

“Just that she knew. I didn’t argue with her, I just let her get it out.”

“Was she angry?” you ask, chancing a look back at him. He looks tired, you realize for the first time. You wish you could go to him.

“She was angry about the lying, but Baela thinks like me,” he says slowly, “We don’t have what you and I have. Not even close. I think if she knew how we feel. How we truly feel—”

“She’d give up being queen?” you ask in disbelief.

“She’s one of my closest friends, she wants me to be happy.”

“Regardless,” you say, “This doesn’t lead anywhere else but here. I will never be your queen.”

“I told you I’m trying. With my mother—”

“Even if the queen was okay with it, would the realm be? Would Balea and Rhaena? Would their father?” you ask, eyes wide as you fight off frustrated tears.

“They will all get over it,” he says. “ The realm doesn’t care. Not every Targaryen has married within their family.”

“This argument is useless,” you say, leaning against the table in your room with a sigh. “We are simply out of time and options.”

“If we talk to Baela—”

“Baela would have told you already if she wanted to break your betrothal,” you say. “She doesn’t. And I don’t blame her.” He moves closer, the closest you've been since he arrived. You brush a hand over his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” he asks.

“Because I know that this breaks your heart, like it does my own,” you say softly. Jace’s hand covers yours and kisses your palm.

“We still have now,” he says. You let out a laugh, sniffing back tears.

“How did you even get away?” you ask.

“I’m the Prince of Dragonstone,” he says smugly, “This is my castle, after all.” You laugh gently. After a pause, you stand and wrap your arms around his neck, needing just another second in his. He holds you just as tightly, his hand rubbing smooth circles over your back.

“Thank you for coming,” you whisper.

“Where else would I be?”

You spend most of the day entwined. Neither of you say much, as there isn’t much to say. This fantasy is fast coming to an end.

As the day turns to night and the island cools, you and Jace make a fire in your chambers, and sit close on the couch in the room, wine flowing between the two of you.

“Did Baela say anything to you about what exactly we had done?” he asks, his calloused fingers tracing soft patterns along your wrist. You study his downcast eyes.

“No,” you say, “Nothing specific. Why?”

“When she spoke with me, she alluded to the fact that I had . . . ruined your reputation.”

“Ah,” you say with a nod. Still, his attention is focused on your hands, dancing around each other. “Did you tell her we hadn’t?”

“She didn’t seem to believe me,” he says, “But yes.”

“We know it’s a line we haven’t crossed. If that unburdens our guilty consciences at all.”

“I’m not guilty, Y/N,” he says, “Not really. I’m sorry to have hurt Baela, but my heart never belonged to her. Not in the way it belongs to you now.” You are quiet for a long moment, too long for his thoughts, it seems.

“So, you’ve never thought about it?” he asks, his gaze finally meeting yours. “Ruining yourself. With me,” he adds.

“Of course I’ve thought about it,” you say, smiling at him, “But thinking it and doing it are two very different things.”

“We’ve done other things,” he says. You can hear the strain in his voice. You flip your wrists, playing with the lines of his palm.

“We’ve kissed,” you say. His eyes flick between your eyes and lips. “That act won’t ruin me.”

“Oh no?” he asks, leaning in closer.

“Not more than it already has,” you say, your words on his lips as he kisses you slowly. “Besides,” you say, “It’s not like I haven’t kissed others before.”

“I don’t want to hear about that,” he says, dropping your hand altogether to snake his around your back, closing the minimal gap between the two of you. You curl into his arms as he kisses you again – just as slow, but with more intent, more meaning, behind it. You let him trap you there for a moment longer before breaking away, a hand to his cheek.

“It’s not like you haven’t kissed anyone else,” you say. “You’ve kissed Baela.”

“It’s not the same,” he says lowly.

“Why not?”

“Because I never kissed her like this.” He takes your face in his hands and devastates your mouth with his own. He holds you there while his tongue takes an exploratory, conquering tour of your mouth. You break away with a gasp.

“You still kissed her,” you say.

“Why are we talking about her at all?” he asks with a sigh, running a hand through his unruly hair.

“We’re not,” you say, breaking out of his arms, rising from the chair to refill the wine.

“Right, we were talking about thoughts.”

“Right."

“Tell me about these thoughts of yours,” he says.

“No,” you say with a laugh.

“Why not?” he asks, immediately pulling you closer when you sit down.

“Because I keep those longings locked,” you say.

“In that beautiful mind of yours,” Jace says, smiling as he leans in to kiss your forehead. “Keep those longings anywhere else?” he asks. You let out a breath, smiling at him.

“Here,” you whisper, touching the skin over your racing heart. Jace’s warm eyes are locked on yours as his lips press to your skin. They trail down to your cleavage, leaving soft kisses in a trail.

“Jace,” you say with a sigh.

“Hmm?”

“Thoughts.”

“I’m having a few now," he says.

“Let’s keep them there,” you say, your fingers resting against his temple.

“If they already think we’ve bedded, what’s the harm in actually doing it?” he asks.

“Besides the fact that I would be ruined?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

“Ruined for who? No one needs to know.”

“Baela and Rhana already think we did, and look how their opinions have changed," you say.

“Your standing with them is the same either way,” he says with a shake of his head, “Whether we do it or not.”

“And what about the man I am to marry?” you ask. Jace’s face falls and he squeezes your hand. “Let’s just stick with thoughts for now,” you say quietly, scooting closer to him.

“What about my thoughts?” he asks. You give him a look and sigh.

“What about your thoughts, Jace?”

“They rarely leave my mind,” he says, looking into your eyes. Just at the intensity in his, you feel your core start to warm. “Especially when I’m in bed, after you’ve left.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So you’re already good at keeping these thoughts in," you say. He rolls his eyes.

“Just because I don’t act on them with you, doesn’t mean I don’t act on them at all,” he says lowly. Your brow scrunches, immediately imagining who he might— “Y/N,” he says, cutting off your train of thought, bringing your gaze to his with a hand to your chin. “I take matters into my own hand.”

“Oh. Oh,” you say, a blush forming on your cheeks.

"Do you ever . . . do anything like that when we part?" he asks. At your intake of breath he smiles. "We don't have to talk about--"

"Yes," you say. His eyes are wide, the tension growing in the silence of the room. "But Jace--"

"I know," he says, a small smile on his face. "Thoughts."

When Jace opens his bedroom door that night, the room behind him is dark, lit only by one candle. He looks tense, his shoulders tight and worry sketched on his brow. He looks as if he needs a release, the same one you desire now, the one that had kept you up.

“Y/N.”

“Hi,” you say. Your eyes glance at his bare chest, and his linger on the thin nightgown you wear.

“What is it?”

"I've been up in my room thinking," you say, making him let out a tut of laughter.

"Sure."

“And I decided I want more than thoughts,” you say breathlessly.

“Oh, thank the gods,” he says, wasting no time to pull you into his room. The door shuts as he presses you up against it, his lips locking onto yours. You moan quietly, the sound muffled in his mouth. He presses his body into yours, making sure you feel how much he has wanted this, needed this.

He drags you into the room, breaking away long enough for you both to catch your breath.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Completely.”

“You are so beautiful.”

“Am I?” you ask. He makes a strangled primal sound, tilting his head.

“Y/N, you have no idea,” he says. You smile at him, before putting a hand around the back of his head, pulling him back to your mouth. Where there was urgency before, now that he knows you want this just as much as he does, his movements slow. His kisses are just as passionate, his mouth practically devouring your own, but he moves as if he’s got all the time in the world.

His hands move down your back, catching in the soft fabric you wear. You arch into him, whispering a soft ‘yes’ to a question he hasn’t yet asked. He pulls at the fabric furtively, gripping your waist tightly as he does. He tugs the dress over your head, messing your hair. As the dress drops to the ground, he watches you with hungry eyes.

You miss the feeling of him, his lips and body upon your own, but the way he watches you, never in your life have you felt so beautiful.

The dress folds into a pile at your feet, and you stand bare before him.

“Y/N,” he strains.

“Jace,” you say, moving closer to kiss him again. He moans into the kiss, the movements becoming needier again as he backs you up to his bed. You fall back on it with a bounce, Jace’s eyes never leaving your body. He smiles down at you, laying prone before him. When your eyes flit to the bulge in his pants, his smile grows.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he says, positioning himself beside you, his body frustratingly not touching yours. He puts a hand on your bare waist, the movement sending chills across your skin. “All I want to do is bury myself into you,” he says, leaning in to kiss your lips softly. They are there for only a moment, and you whimper when he pulls back.

“Why don’t you, then?” you ask.

“Because I want to savor every moment of tonight,” he says, once again kissing you too quickly. He watches your face, the look you give him for keeping you at bay. He grins proudly as he takes your face in his hand and kisses you in the slow, devastating way he knows you want. Instinctively, your naked body turns into his, as you wrap an arm around his neck. Jace’s hands trail down your body, gripping your ass with a squeeze that makes you gasp into his mouth.

“I love you,” he says breathlessly, breaking away and then kisses you again, so you don’t have time to respond. His mouth moves across your jaw, and you are about to tell him how much you love this, how much you love him, but then his mouth closes sweetly on your neck, and you only let out a moan.

Jace smiles as he turns you onto your back again, his body laying over yours to keep you pinned there. His mouth on your neck is delicate, so much so that it ignites every nerve along your body. As he kisses and nips carefully, his tongue dancing along your skin, you arch your back, pressing into him. He laughs at the movement, his hand gripping your hip.

“Jace,” you gasp.

He moves down your body, his hands cupping your breasts, kneading gently. Needing to touch him in any way possible, your hands run through his hair. When he lowers himself further and puts his soft lips on your breast, you grip his hair, tugging slightly. Jace smiles against your skin.

“I love you,” you say on a gasp. His tongue flicks at your nipple as his eyes meet yours. He doesn’t have to say anything, you can see the love in his eyes.

You are a bundle of nerves, tension gathering at your core. You need him now, but aren’t exactly sure what you need from him. When you moan his name, Jace seems to know. With heavy eyes, you watch him move even further down your body. He spends a long moment just looking at you laid bare in front of him. His perusal isn’t enough; you miss his touch.

“Jace,” you whine, practically breathless.

“Y/N,” he replies, his breath dancing against your core, making you shiver. Jace smiles, grabbing your ankle when you begin to squirm, desperate for contact again. “I told you,” he says, “I want to take my time with you.” The sound that comes out of you is animalistic, filled with frustration and need. Jace laughs at you, placing a kiss to your thigh.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this before,” he says. “This frustrated.” He kisses you again, an inch closer to where you need him most. You lift your head to look at him. You’re about to say something snarky when his finger gently separates your folds. Immediately, you gasp, arching as he rubs gently.

Ever so slowly, he does pick up the pace, his forefinger circle the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. During his ministrations, his eyes are on your, watching what action makes you wiggle beneath him, which makes you moan.

“Jace,” you cry out, writhing underneath him. Your breathing is becoming more intense, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Not just yet,” he says. You roll your eyes in frustration, whining again. Jace laughs as his lips meet your center. Your entire body arches into him as his tongue moves against your core. Eyes still locked on you, he devours you. Most of the sounds you make are incoherent, fading into the cacophony of your gasps and the low noises Jace makes.

“Fuck, Jace!” you groan when finally, the tension within you releases. Jace smiles but doesn’t move from in between your legs. He rides out your waves of pleasure, his tongue still doing things that have you forgetting your name. When you’ve come down, you release your grip on Jace’s hair, not even realizing you had grabbed it again. He moves up next to you, kissing you slowly. The tase of you is on his lips, which leaves you feeling some type of possessive nature over him.

“Jace, that was—”

“I know,” he says with a smile. His hairline is sweaty, his hair out of control from your touch. He is so beautiful, and after what he just did for you, you never want to leave this bed, to leave his side. You pull him back to your lips, kissing him fiercely. When he breaks away, he kisses the corner of your jaw. You sigh and notice with increasing delight that he has kicked off his pants, and now fists his cock. Just the sight of it sends liquid to your core.

“Jace.”

“Touch me,” he says against your skin, “Please.” You don’t have any time to be nervous about what you’re doing, so great is your want. When your hand wraps around his cock, Jace moans directly into your ear. The sound gives you confidence. You mimic the motion he was doing to himself, tilting his jaw with a finger, so that you can taste the sounds he makes.

Instinctively, it seems that your bodies move together. He moves over you and the look on his face as you continue to touch him is like nothing you’ve ever seen or felt before.

“I need you,” Jace pants.

“Yes,” you say, just as breathlessly. You drop your hand and Jace lines his cock to your center. He rubs against you, slicking himself on your folds. You whimper slightly, already over sensitized.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” Jace says, his warm eyes meeting yours. You nod, completely trusting him.

When he presses into you, the two of you let out twin cries of pleasure. You grip his shoulders as you get used to the feeling of him inside of you. He moves inside of you slowly, his eyes watching your face in awe.

“Jace,” you say, “Fuck.” He laughs at the curse, something he has never heard from your lips before tonight.

“You are so beautiful,” he says, gripping your waist as he picks up his pace.

“Yeah?” you ask, arching into him.

“You’re perfect,” he says. He grabs hold of your leg, bending it so he can feel you even deeper.

You aren’t sure how you are even breathing, everything that comes out of your mouth is a gasp or moan or his name. He is slowly dissolving that way, too, his movements becoming sloppier, rougher. Every thrust inside of you is another pang of pleasure, but still, the tension builds inside of you.

Jace’s mouth has been savaging your neck and shoulder, but when his breath becomes more strained, he whispers in your ear, “Touch yourself. I want to feel your release.” At that moment, you would have jumped out the window if he told you to. You do as he asks, sliding your hand between your bodies, touching yourself the way he had before.

“Like that?” he asks. Your other hand clings to his back, scraping softly.

“Not as much as I liked your mouth,” you say back. Jace moans into your ear, his pace picking up. You match it, and quickly the two of you cry out as you come around him. Jace’s release fills you as he rests on top of you, his breathing heavy. For a long moment, you stay like that, just catching your breaths, prone in each other’s arms.

When he turns to look at you, you both let out a breathy laugh. You brush back his sweaty curls and kiss him.

“I love you,” you say quietly.

“I love you.” He kisses you once. He pulls out of you, and you breathe in at the loss. Jace looks smug as he flops down beside you. For a little while, you just lay there, cooling down. But then, you don’t want to be away from him for any longer, and curl into his arms. He is sweaty, like you must be, too, but you don’t care as he wraps an arm around you and kisses your forehead.

“Let’s never leave this bed,” you say with a sigh, placing a kiss over his beating heart. He meets your gaze with a smile.

“Deal.

There is a goddess in bed next to him. A naked goddess, in his bed. He must have been dreaming.

He had dreamed of this. Dreamed and fantasized about you, late into the night with his hand around his cock.

But the real thing, feeling your body under his, getting to touch you, it turned him on now, just remembering the night before. You shift in your sleep, letting out a soft moan. Jace remembers the sounds you made last night, louder and more fervent in his ear. He remembers the way you arched your back, pressing your breasts into him, your hands on his body, and the taste of you.

Twice the night before, he had taken you, his desire for you still too great after that first time. Now even, you are peacefully asleep on his chest, your long hair laid out on his pillow, and he still cannot stop thinking about kissing you, tasting you, fucking you again.

Last night had not been his first, but it might as well have been. He had never felt like this before. Everything he had ever wanted was in his arms, and he vowed right then that he would do anything to keep you like this.

He knows he has been watching you for too long, but he can’t bring himself to care. You shift in his arms, another delicious hum from your lips. When you say his name, your throat is scratchy.

“Yes?” he asks gently.

“I can feel you staring.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks. Your eyes open then, immediately locking onto his. Jace smiles as he puts a hand to your chin, tilting your mouth to meet his. You sigh into the kiss, gently parting his lips, and Jace’s cock responds. He feel like a much younger man, so quickly aroused. You break the kiss first, biting your lip to keep your grin at bay.

“Morning,” you say.

“Good morning. How did you sleep?”

“Wonderfully,” you say, relaxing back into his arms. He pulls you in closer, wanting and needing to feel your body on his.

“How did you sleep?” you ask, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I’m not sure I did.”

“Were you watching me the whole night?” you ask with a laugh.

“So what if I was?” he says, squeezing you playfully.

“I assumed you’d be exhausted after all the activity last night,” you say quietly. Jace smirks as he brings his lips to yours.

“Well, it gave me time to think about everything I want to do this morning.”

“I did, too,” you say, “But I still got some sleep.” You kiss his cheek softly, moving across his skin in a trail of kisses, until you bite on his earlobe. The sound he lets out makes you laugh against his skin, goosebumps appearing.

“What were you thinking about?” he asks breathlessly.

“Something I didn’t get to do last night,” you say, “But I’m not sure I’ll be good at it.” He groans in spite of himself, low in his throat. Your lips meet his in a rougher kiss, a sign that you are fully awake now.

“Y/N,” he says on a breath, pulling back from you.

“I love you,” you say quickly. The sight of his smile makes one grow on your face.

“I love you,” he says, pulling you in for a quick kiss. “And there is nothing you can do that I won’t absolutely love.”

“Okay,” you say with a smile. Eyes locked on his, your hand travels down his chest to his cock, already hard for you. “Jace,” you whisper, delight on your face at the expression on his.

“Yes, love?” he asks breathlessly, groaning when your hand slides over the head of his cock.

“You’re so beautiful,” you say softly. He smiles as he starts to say a response, but you kiss him before he can.

“Y/N,” he moans, his eyes closed, his brow sweaty. “Is this what you had in mind?”

“Partially. Just – it didn’t feel fair that you got to taste me but I didn’t get to taste ou.” The laugh he lets out is strained. You move upright, kissing Jace once before taking your hand off of him. You kiss down his neck slowly, remembering how he tormented you the night before. His hands grip your body, holding you flush to him, but letting you do what you’d like. You move down his chest, your hands and mouth exploring every inch of his body.

When you move down to his hips, you look up at him with a smirk.

“Let me know if I do anything wrong,” you say, kissing his shaft softly.

“Y/N, you couldn’t.”

“You say that, but—”

“What part of this,” he says, motioning to his cock, “Makes you think I wouldn’t like anything you do?”

“Just . . . thoughts, I guess,” you say with a smile.

“Try,” he says lowly, “And see for yourself just how much I love everything you do.”

“Fine,” you say, and when your mouth closes around him, Jace takes your hair in his hands, his moans loud, and falling closer to his release as he falls completely in love with you.

[cybsoo2]

temptation

01. neverland is not a dream

╰┈➤ synopsis — Shipwrecked, you find yourself stranded on a strange island. After searching the shores, you stumble across a rather annoying boy. He leads you to safety and you start to question what future, fate will bestow upon you.

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!faerie!txt x reader

╰┈➤ word count — 4.3k

╰┈➤ content warning — slight angst

ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ; AAHH I’M SO EXCITED BUT SCARED TO POST THIS!!hopefully the taglist works cuz its my first time using one. also pls don’t be shy to interact or ask any questions. i luv to hear yall yap •ᴗ•

The salty sea is unfamiliar to your tongue. The waves that wash over you kiss your lips with every swell. The ocean breathes in shallow breaths that turn the tide. You’re swallowed under a sudden wave when you finally decide to open your eyes. 

Your cheek is pressed up against a cool surface. You reach out to run your fingers through the soft sand; digging your hand in deeper to ground yourself. Dehydration has left you dizzy. You lick your lips to get rid of dryness; spitting out the bits of sand that stick to your tongue.

You turn on your back to gauge your surroundings. A bright light blinds you and you bring up your hand to shield your eyes. The warm rays slip past your fingertips. You drop your arm back down once your eyes begin to settle in the sunlight. The void is filled with a bright blue. Millions of miles of nothing but the sapphire shade. The sea and sky battle against each other, two shades morphing into one. No ships sailing, no birds fluttering, you’re entirely alone in this vast expanse of nothingness.

You turn to the side, pieces of your past shipwreck are spread out across the shore. You reach out to touch the destruction. Discarded and decaying, all symbols of safety are ruined. Your breath begins to grow heavy. This realization rests like a 20 pound weight on your chest. You sit up slightly, leaning back on your elbows. Whipping your head around you, you can see that the beach goes on for miles. It stretches out across the horizon and wraps around the curves of the island. Sand, trees, and wreckage are all that you can see. 

You stand up fast, fighting off the feeling of lightheadedness. You swallow down the sandpaper sensation in your throat. 

“Hello!” Your voice tears into your throat. “Is anyone there?! Hello!” Your brittle voice breaks down against its misuse, but you continue screaming into the silence. While you shout at the seashore, you begin to search the beach for any stragglers from the wreck. Desperate eyes scour the empty shore as your cries are carried out to sea. 

You continue to search for what feels like hours until hope holds out its hand and shows you what seems to be… footprints? 

Small markings are dug into the sand and you sprint ahead to take a look. The tracks start in the sand and stretch out into the treeline. You walk alongside them, matching each step with your own. The footprints draw you further into the unknown forest. The woods welcome you. Shifting and reshaping its terrain to form a faint path. It pulls you in before you can think twice. 

Too naive to understand and too distraught to care, you turn a blind eye to your surroundings. Unbeknownst to you, magic flows through the forest. Running like roots through the entire island. It’s intertwined with the trees, dispersed in the air, and familiar to any lifeform that calls this island home. 

While you may not understand what is still unknown, you can feel a power that pulses in the air. An aura that you can’t quite put a name to, but can recognize its strength and ecstasy. It makes a faint humming noise that rings in your ears and hovers with every step you take. It’s not a nuisance like one would assume, rather a relaxant that washes away your worries. 

This feeling feels familiar, as is everything else that meets your eye. Nothing has any resemblance to reality. Everything is warped into a perfect, pink, picture. In your hazy recollection, it reminds you of a drifting dream. The place where sorrow and anger are absent. It’s a child’s paradise filled with fairies, mermaids, monsters, and all things interesting. A sacred sanctuary reserved for the fallen youth. Yet, it’s a wonder how you wound up here. An island lost at sea, never mapped and only known to those who spend their lives searching for it. Perhaps, the devil needed a shiny new thing to toy with. And who is he to resist a sweet thing so pure. 

You’ve followed your fantasies to temptation. Lured out by someone else’s lucky streak. The gates left unguarded to a new and interesting enigma. But when what you believe to be a dream starts morphing into a realm of reality, why would you want to leave? Even when you realize that the roots run red with dark desires and a sinful touch, would you even be able to escape?

A rustling in the bushes causes you to look up from your feet. You gain a feeling of unease and stop to hold your breath. The trees seem to taunt you, dropping leaves on your head that make you jump out of your skin. The bushes shake with laughter and the birds twitter teasing remarks. 

You can feel yourself growing closer. A certain presence plays hide-and-seek in the shadows. A storm swims in your stomach, the tides turning and making you feel almost powerless; like prey being toyed with before the predator pounces. The sinking sensation drags you down, your feet feeling like lead and knees threatening to give in. But you push through the fear, determined to find a solution to this mess.

You follow the footsteps further into the forest. Twisting and turning leaving you dizzy with dread. The tracks even appear to do laps and loops around you. Have you gotten lost already? You stop to settle your doubt for only a second before continuing on the crooked path. You remain running, just trying to hold on to your sanity while the sun begins to set. Darkness is falling fast and you'd like to find some sort of shelter before the sky submits to the black abyss.

As the minutes morph into miles, the footprints seem to appear fainter. Almost as if the culprit is floating with softer steps. The footprints then stop completely in the middle of nowhere. Two prints pressed into the dirt drop off into thin air. Nobody stands before you, no noises are heard, you’re surrounded by nothing at all. You lean down to give the prints a closer look and-

“BOO!” A sudden shout sends you to the ground. A shocked scream leaves your lips as you turn around in terror. You look up from your spot, sprawled out on the forest floor to see what seems to be… a boy? His silhouette blocks the sun, hiding his face under a dark overcast. He peers down into your eyes. You’re only able to make out the smug smile that settles itself in the shadows. He gives a soft laugh before asking, “I scared you didn’t I?” There’s a playful tone to his words and while he stares down at you with a smile on his lips and a shine in his eyes, you sit in shock. All coherent words have run away from your mind, leaving you stranded in silence with a stranger.

The boy kneels down in front of you, holding himself up with his hands. Curiosity catches his heart and he moves to poke and prod at the pretty little thing that has fallen at his feet. He brings one hand up to start teasing at your hair. He toys with the loose locks and tugs at it when you attempt to back away. 

“Who are you?” You ask with hesitancy. The boy only continues to pull at your hair, ignoring your question. “You weren’t from the shipwreck were you? I would’ve remembered you.” The boy's attention seems to have been captured by your question.

“You would’ve remembered me? Do you really think I’m that handsome?” He says with a smirk. His hand has stopped still in your hair, now fully focused on observing your reaction.

“No, I just would’ve remembered someone annoying like you.” Although his attractiveness does grab your attention, your sudden irritation at his behavior is much more prominent. Smacking his hand away from your hair, you stand up from your spot on the ground and he’s quick to follow. A faint frown falls on his face. “Are you from here then? Do you know how to help me?” He seems to stare right through your questions, amused by your actions instead of concerned. “Do you know how I can get off the island?”

“Why would you want to leave? Have you looked around you?” He asks in confusion and stares at you like you're stupid.

You tilt your head from staring at him to look at the trees tinted pink. Blushing blossoms sprout from each branch while butterflies flutter around you. The sliver of sunshine that snakes through the treetops shines down on the forest floor. The light reflects off every shiny surface, producing glitter in the air. 

The boy drags you out of your heavenly haze once he takes two steps closer. He leans forward the slightest bit to be on eye level. 

“I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.” His question comes off more demanding than you expected, leaving no room for disagreement. You nod your head to agree and he begins his interrogation. “You said you were in a shipwreck, what exactly do you mean?”

You spill your secrets into the silence. “I’d been traveling by ship for about a week before a storm hit, and well… we went under.” Your voice begins to break off. A shiver crawling down your spine at the recollection of the horrific incident. Water lines your weary eyes, but you blink back your tears before you can get caught up in your emotions. You rub at your eyes rather roughly, ignoring the boy’s intensive staring as you ask your question again. “There has to be some way to leave the island. Are there any boats? Any other survivors?” 

“There might be.” He stares straight into your skull. Almost as if he’s trying to search your thoughts with x-ray vision. Your agitation only seems to grow at his unclear answers. 

“Well, where are they? Can you take me to them?” Your voice grows frantic, clinging onto the frail piece of hope that there might be help for you. 

“What if I don’t want to tell you?” The strange boy seems to gain a sick sense of enjoyment watching you struggle. Your anger rises into your cheeks and a cherry blossom blush bleeds into your face. The boy has to hold back another taunt at the tip of his tongue. 

“What? Why not?!” 

“Why not? You ask too many questions, it’s starting to get on my nerves.” The boy rolls his eyes in irritation. He takes a step closer and you stare up at him through a shocked expression. Before you can yell out your annoyance and anger at his lack of sympathy, he shuts you up with some interesting information.

“And it doesn’t matter anyways, even if I wanted to help you, I wouldn’t be able to.” 

You ask your next question already dreading the answer, “And why’s that.”

“Because no one ever leaves.” He shrugs at the answer as if it’s a simple thing to say. As if he hasn’t broken any inkling of hope you still held dear to your heart. Your heartstrings snap apart and leave a searing pain that lingers. You gaze at the stranger in disbelief, unable to accept his confession. It’s only then that you realize you’ve started to cry when he reaches out to touch the teardrops. He pokes at the pink that lines your under eye, a pout of clumsy curiosity pulls at his lips. 

Beomgyu doesn’t understand how he hurt you, he just knows that he did. Teardrops and falling frowns are not something he’s familiar with, he’s only ever seen them in a man’s last moments. Which is why he can’t comprehend how such simple words can cut you clean. Your heart is like a fragile flower, the blossoming bud burrows deep inside your left breast. But everytime a tear rolls off your cheek, a petal drops dead. 

He’s never had to think twice about his actions. Always being so bold and brazen with his friends that just found him to be funny. But as your strange soul stands in front of him, a sliver of doubt festers under his skin. He tries to retract his answer, hoping that this time the tears will stop. 

“Maybe there might be a way for you to leave.” His mouth is moving before he can stop himself. Why is his heart reacting this way? He doesn’t want you to leave… but he doesn’t want to upset you anymore.

In an instant, that shining sliver of hope blooms back in your heart. “Really? How?” You wipe away your remaining tears. Looking down at the ground instead of his eyes, you try to hide your easy emotions. 

He hesitates for a moment, unsure if he should lie or tell the truth. He’s selfish and wants you all to himself, but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid. The others would find out about you eventually and he’d just get into more trouble in the long run. One last look into your tear-struck eyes has him making up his mind. “One of my brothers knows a lot more about the island than I do, so I’d have to take you to him.”

“Then let’s go!” You start walking off into the forest. You don’t know where you’re going but you’re eager to reach a resolution as soon as possible. 

“You’re impatient aren’t you? And I hope you know that I can’t promise he’ll agree to let you leave.” Beomgyu scurries on after you, matching your fast pace and walking side by side. His eyes never drift far from your face. They always linger, looking at how unhidden your emotions are. He takes in the way your eyebrows are cinched in irritation, your eyes open wide with hope & hurt, and your lips that fall into a frown at his words. 

“Why not?” You stop walking and turn to look at him. “ Look, I promise I don’t want to cause any trouble. But whether you like it or not, I’m stuck here. I bet you that I want to leave this place more than you wish I was gone, but I need help in order to do that.” Desperation is laced deep into your voice. It borders on begging and for some reason Beomgyu finds himself slightly disturbed by your distress. Your serious tone makes him squirm and an uncomfortable sensation swims in his stomach. 

“You didn’t have to take it so seriously,” He lets out a light laugh, trying to take down some of the tension. “I’m just saying that he’ll probably want to make sure you aren’t dangerous is all. Which I bet you aren’t, I could never imagine someone like you being a pirate.” As if he’s trying to rub salt in the wound, he pokes at your chubby cheeks. Trying to get the message across that you couldn’t be less intimidating if you tried.

You shy away from the boy, turning your head to the side to get rid of his touch. You’re beginning to grow tired of his annoying advances. Immature and uncaring are all you see him as. Really, he’s just a boy. He’s about your age but it’s clear he’s been sheltered from the cruel chaos of the world. Hidden away to live an easy life on this island. But then again, perhaps you’re speaking too soon.

The snap of a twig brings you both out of the silence. Your heads shoot up in the direction of the noise. Only when you’ve been given the chance to look do you realize how fast night has fallen. The shadows swallow you whole. A cloak of darkness covers the sky, drowning out the ashes of the sun. The trees are tangled into one another, twisting and intertwining to create a confusing thicket. The black branches hold hands to ensure that you can not escape.

In a sudden flash of fear, you turn to Beomgyu for a solution. But the once bold boy now appears much more bashful than before. What were once witty comments and playful remarks have been transformed into a stolen silence. It’s so unlike Beomgyu to be without words, but suddenly, he finds himself fearful of what hides behind the trees. After all, when he’s alone with his own emotions, he’s just all bark and no bite.

You take a step back from the bushes, your hand brushing against Beomgyu’s as you come closer. He seems to have the same idea as he follows your footsteps. Further away from the sudden sound and farther into the forest. 

“What was that?” You whisper. 

“I don’t know.” He states simply.

You turn to look at him with a glare, “Aren’t you the one that lives on the island? Shouldn’t you know what animals come out after dark.” Your anger is quick to rise again. You really couldn’t be more unlucky, getting shipwrecked and stuck with the one boy that’s incapable of helping you. 

Beomgyu doesn’t respond, instead he stares at the eyes in the dark. The irises are opposites, one shines like a star, filled with intrigue. While the other burns with an angry intensity, fueled by malice. The glowing eyes grow bigger as the creature comes closer. Silent footsteps travel fast and just before it jumps out of the bushes, you and Beomgyu break into a sprint.

You both run from the creature that crawls at night. It’s an imaginary monster that only exists in this eternal paradise: A Beast bound in blood from its last meal. An animal that runs rampant, blind with a burning rage. A corpse that decays in the dark, a poor past soul who didn’t survive. 

These terrible thoughts run awry in your head. Torturing you with images of mangled monsters and other unknown that hunt at twilight. Tears of terror threaten to fall from your eyes, but you blink them back before Beomgyu can notice. 

The smell of smoke burns through your throat. Taking in lungfuls has you coughing and struggling to catch your breath. Rotten rage is running right behind you. It grows closer, and closer, until all you can think about is the consequences of getting caught. 

A tug to your wrist trips you up and tears you from your thoughts. Beomgyu pulls you up to run side by side. He holds your hand like you might leave him if he lets go.

“Are all humans this slow?” He speaks with exasperation. The subtle slip of unknown information leaves his lips before he can think twice.

“I’m going as fast as I can!” Your outburst of anger and panic is yelled at the top of your lungs. Your legs begin to burn, screaming at you to stop, but this chase will not stop until one of you has won. Either you outsmart the beast by hiding away, or die by being devoured. That thought is more than enough to keep you going. 

Occasionally, Beomgyu steals a quick glance to his side. He can see the tears slipping past your fearless facade. Too embarrassed to admit you’re terrified to the arrogant boy and his relentless insults. Your hand is clasped tight in his. Beomgyu sees how you tremble and watches the tears that fall. A growing bit of guilt begins to settle in his stomach. He had been such a fool. Taking his time to toy with you when he knew nighttime was near. Although Beomgyu shares everything between his brothers, he’s not eager to share your sweet affections. He found you first so he believes he has some sort of entitlement over you. A pretty little plaything that is his to have. Beomgyu has always been reckless when it comes to expressing his emotions. The selfish sin makes him act stupid, and his fatal flaw might be the death of you. 

As you run, fear follows after you. It’s hot on your heels and threatens to tear you apart. The beast is just behind you. You can feel its breath on the back of your neck. Your speed is no match for the monster. Beomgyu must be thinking the same thing, because he sweeps you away to somewhere safe. 

His hands wrap around your hips roughly. No reason to be gentle in this time of distress. You’re shoved to the ground and dragged to a hidden hole in the dirt. Tree roots tangle around both your bodies. They provide protection and safety while the animal continues its hunt from up above. You can hear it sniffing at the surface, searching for where their fallen food ran off to. At the sound of it growing near, you cling closer to one another. Beomgyu pushes himself flush to the tree trunk behind him while pulling you closer to his chest. His heartbeat is erratic. Blood flowing like fear right through him. You can feel the rapid rhythm beating against your back.  

His breathing is barely there. Too scared to suck in a single breath. You’re the exact opposite. Chest raising high with each heavy inhale. You’re beginning to hyperventilate. With your heart clenched tight in terror you’ve begun to lose your mind to emotion. A hand slowly slides over your mouth and for a second you freeze in fear. But it’s just Beomgyu trying to quiet your quick breathing. You turn to look at him. Your vision is blurred by the tears in your eyes but you can still make out the emotion on his face.

Beomgyu tries to hide his fear, he really does, but it slices at his skin until his heart begins to bleed out. His eyes sting with salty tears, they gather at his waterline and threaten to fall down his cherry cheeks. He’s an imitation of you, stuffing away the sadness and trying to hide his emotions. For the first time in a long time, a little bit of fear festers deep in his heart. He never meant to wander so far away from the others, but he got distracted by such a pretty little thing. He was so selfish, trying to steal you away before the others could find you, and now you both sit in an agonizing silence. Inches away from the Reaper’s wrath. 

Truthfully, you don’t have any idea as to what type of animal is chasing you. You just know that it’s a bloodthirsty brute that’s hunting you down to hollow you out and eat your insides. 

Fear is festering in your mind. Your imagination makes up memories of your worst fears. Putting together the pieces to create a bloodcurdling creature. You imagine the unknown monster to have fangs pierced with flesh and rotting red remains. It has bones that are broken free from its ribcage, resulting in the rattling sound it makes with every inhale. Each breath it takes feels closer than the last. They ring in your ears and you swear you can feel it breathing right over your shoulder. 

Ruthless rage is torn from its throat as it lets out a growl in anguish; disappointed it let its prey fall too far. You can hear the sound of its claws digging into the wood just above your head. After its fit of anger, the monster runs off in what you can assume is a search for more meat. You can see its tail end as it trails off deeper into the dark forest. It has a fluffy tail that flicks in irritation. A slight hint as to what monster lurks on this lonely island. The only monster to ever make Beomgyu truly afraid. 

You’re both too scared to make a move at first. You sit still and listen as the monster runs farther and farther off into the forest. After a few minutes, the only sound you can hear is the whistling wind and your heavy breathing. 

But you both manage to bite down your fear and stand up from the dirt. Your head whips around to look at your surroundings, still paranoid that the monster may be somewhere near. With hands still held between you, Beomgyu leads you both down a path in the forest. The trail looks run down, years of footsteps trampling the flowers and grass that grows. You two take your time. You let your legs rest and catch your breath by walking slow. Your heartbeat is now in harmony with the rest of your body, no longer racing with adrenaline. 

Each slow step you take feels heavier than the last. Fatigue is finally catching up to you. The amount of physical and emotional whiplash you’ve experienced today has deeply drained you. You’re too tired to talk or form a single thought, and slowly sleep begins to burden you. But before you can collapse and sleep through a thousand sunsets, a blinding light burns your eyes. 

Four silhouettes stand in front of the sun. That sun being the little bit of light held in their hands. Torches are used to scare off the shadows and drive away the animosities. It also carves out the shadows of each boy’s features. Forever young and flawless faces are all that meets the eye. Their aura demands your attention and you wouldn’t dare to look away. 

Are these the boys Beomgyu had mentioned earlier? If they are, will they welcome you with open arms or turn their backs on the outcast. A wave of unease rolls around in your stomach as the shortest boy steps forward. His big eyes are hidden behind a glare. Your heart burns hot under the heat of his gaze. Chest stinging and speech stolen, you start to shrink in on yourself. The boy breaks through the crowd and closes the distance. Now that there is nothing between you and his icy eyes, you wish you had been killed by the beast.

➜ ┊: (next) ᵎ ✰┊: (masterlist) ᵎ

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‎© cybsoo2 2024, all rights reserved

[musclefantasytf]

Arabian wish

Hi guys this story is a request from @musclejedi7 , i hope You like it

It was a sunny day on the beach when Jedi decided to go for a walk. As he walked along the seashore, his thoughts were lost in the waves and the sea breeze. But suddenly, his feet stumbled upon something buried in the sand. Looking closer, he realized that it was an old, rusty lamp.

Intrigued, Jedi dug up the lamp and removed the sand that covered it. As he did so, thick smoke came out of the lamp and condensed into the air to form the figure of a large, muscular man. Jedi was stunned to see the man, who had a beautiful face and a perfect beard.

The man presented himself as Ishaq, the genius of masculinity and virility. 'I will hear your deepest desire,' he said with a smile. Jedi was impressed by Ishaq's masculinity and masculine voice, and his body reacted instantly. Ishaq noticed the bulge in Jedi's shorts and smiled mischievously.

Jedi thought of his deepest desire. He wanted to be a big, muscular and virile man, something completely opposite to his current appearance. He made a decision and asked Ishaq to turn him into a masculine and attractive man. Ishaq smiled and snapped his fingers, and red smoke enveloped Jedi.

At first, Jedi felt intense pain as his heart beat. Suddenly, her body began to grow. First, his chest expanded and became two muscular shelves. Then his arms and legs followed the same path, leaving him completely naked and a thin layer of hair appears from the chest to the abdomen.

Then, her skin began to change color, acquiring a darker hue. Jedi felt an intense pain on his face, which was shifting to more masculine and Arab factions and he grows an exquisite beard . Her penis grew overwhelmingly, becoming a thick mastile of meat. Even their balls grew to the size of oranges.

Jedi gasped as his body changed shape before his eyes. He looked at his reflection in the water and realized that he was now an Arab man, tall, muscular and virile. Ishaq smiled as he sucked Jedi's penis, causing it to cum intensely.

Jedi fainted from the excitement and, when he awoke, found himself in a luxurious apartment. He looked around and realized that he was no longer a Jedi, but a famous porn actor and model named Hassan. He looked at himself in the mirror and was surprised at his new appearance. It was all he had ever wanted and he thanked Ishaq for fulfilling his innermost wish. From that day on, Hassan was a star in the adult entertainment industry and always remembered that sunny day on the beach when his life changed thanks to a genius.

[puzzleshipping-library]

it's MERMAY (ft. Mer!Atem)

To kick things off, I am pleased to present a list of Mer!Atem (or Mer!Yami) fics. For lack of a better option, they are in alphabetical order with the rating, word count, completion status, and summary. Please be sure to check the actual fic for additional tags/warnings.

Bon appetit!

Beads of Tears by Yami Yuugi Rating: T | Word Count: ~35,000 | Status: Complete | 2006

A 19 year feud between sister kingdoms is resolved with the discovery of Atlantis's heir. However, problems arise when a painful transformation brings a supposed human to the murky depths of Atlantis and Atlantica for the resolution. Love is found in the most unusual places.

Beliefs by BiBookDemon (locked to AO3 users) Rating: T | Word Count: ~1900 | Status: Complete | 2023

Yugi is a non-believer cause he's just an 'ordinary guy'. Or so he thinks.

Binding Circles by Shamise Rating: T | Word Count: ~53,000 | Status: Ongoing | 2007

The Ocean will call you home.' Is what Yuugi's Grandpa told before he died. Now, a few years later, the ocean really is calling Yuugi, but not in the way he thought it would. A strange creature has claimed Yuugi as his mate. How will he survive?

By The Seashore by AsagiStilinski Rating: T | Word Count: ~2500 | Status: Complete | 2018

He had dark tan skin, long hair in a similar style to Yugi's own, with blonde bangs and a black and red backing, his tail was blood red, with little fins attached to both sides, and lighter colored fins at the bottom He really was a sight to behold… And when his eyes finally slid open, Yugi felt as though his breath had been stolen.

Cerulean by Diaphanousss Rating: T | Word Count: ~1500 | Status: Complete | 2019

He couldn't scream. He couldn't breathe. The water fed off his fear, dwindling him down to near exhaustion. The heat that surged through his blood like wildfire was soon replaced with the frozen sensation of pure utter dread. He thrashed and thrashed and thrashed but he was chained by the strong haul of the water. He sank. And sank.

Cheerful Oblivion by atlas_x Rating: T | Word Count: ~9,000 | Status: Complete | 2023

When Yugi is ten, he's saved by a mythical creature that haunts his dreams. At sixteen, Atem steps into his life when he least expects it and he finally gets the chance to thank his savior properly.

Deep Blue Songspell by cosmicbubble Not Rated | Word Count: ~7,000 | Status: Complete | 2018

Stressed from the work of the day, Yugi wanders out to the ocean and comes across a remarkable - and life-changing - sight.

Deep in the sea, I'll show you what I'm dreaming by BabyBananya Rating: T | Word Count: ~6,000 | Status: Ongoing | 2020

It would be another few hours at least before he would have to start opening up shop- he was sure his grandpa was still asleep soundly upstairs, and, married to his work as that man was, even he didn't wake up this early. But Yuugi couldn't sleep. (Yuugi is a lost highschool graduate stuck in a tiny seaside town, and Atem is a mermaid. What happens next will shock you!😳)

Hidden Depths by Tamo282 Rating: T | Word Count: ~89,000 | Status: Ongoing | 2025

Twelve years ago, the Darkness escaped the crust deep in the ocean, releasing chaos that swept outwards and displaced the proud merfolk clans across the sea. Merciless, it took their way of life along with whatever fell victim within its shadows. Those few who remain struggle to find safety and security. Yugi thought he found someplace safe, but all it took was one careless moment and one storm to tear him from the life he knew…only to place him in the path of another. A strange and mysterious mer with scarlet scales and too many secrets to count.

Jolly Sailor Bold by Kudalyn Rating: M | Word Count: ~10,000 | Status: Complete | 2018

The seas sing for those who are lost, and for those who find as well.' Atem is a siren/merman and Yugi is a ghost haunting a sunken ship Atem comes across. Atem is intrigued by the ghost, hangs around enough that they start to get to know each other, getting attached, and falling for each other over time. But Yugi’s memories start to fade, as ghosts don’t get to stay forever on the living plane, and Atem has to deal with this loss.

(Be sure to also check out the sequel, Shellfish Tendencies!)

Lament in the Waves by PrincipalCellist Rating: T | Word Count: ~15,000 | Status: Ongoing | 2020

Yugi has loved Anzu since forever - but when the Ocean calls, you answer. A siren saved cursed him with a kiss, and now Yugi is part of something he doesn't quite understand. He can feel his heart break with every wave and time is running out. There's still a chance… but sometimes that's worse.

Maelstrom by Lindelle Rating: T | Word Count: ~40,000 | Status: Ongoing | 2010

Yuugi returned to Seattle ready to start fresh - and how better to do so than as a marine biology intern at the world renowned KaibaCorp, Marine Division? However, as Yuugi delves deeper within KaibaCorp's walls, he discovers more than he expected, and finds himself questioning everything he thinks he knows about science, life, and love.

New Life Under the Sea by PuzzleshippingPrincess1989 Rating: M | Word Count: ~27,000 | Status: Ongoing | 2023

Yugi has a terrible life on the surface all he wants is to make friends and fall in love with he man of his dreams. He soon meets Atem a very handsome merman from the city of Luxor.

Paint Me a Sea of Love by VyxenSkye Rating: T | Word Count: ~13,000 | Status: Complete | 2006

Yugi, a reclusive artist who dreams of the ocean. Atem, a young merman who is the reluctant and rebellious Prince of Atlantica. What happens when these two meet in a pure accident and Yugi realizes that Atem is the one that he’s been dreaming of?

Rusalka by Olesia.love Rating: T | Word Count: unknown | Status: Complete | 2008

Yuugi is aquaphobic. So, of course, he falls for the man living in the lake.

Sea Legs by AsagiStilinski Rating: T | Word Count: ~2800 | Status: Complete | 2018

"Just… please Atem, I know how scared you are, but I really think you're worried for nothing, just try to start letting yourself believe that they'll accept you…. please? You do that for me, I'll enjoy myself tommorrow, ok?" The merman glanced up, his expression ill and grim, but still smiling weakly at his partner "You have a deal,"

Sea of Rage by YamiKaykaMotou Rating: T | Word Count: ~7000 | Status: Complete | 2005

Yami is a merman prince. Yugi is human prince. When they meet, will they find a way to be together?

Summer Blues, Ocean's Blue by CharadeChat Rating: N/R | Word Count: ~32,000 | Status: Ongoing | 2023

Yugi Muto, in an effort to get away from his hometown and the associated memories, applies for and is accepted to an archeology internship on the coast of Egypt. Whatever secrets they are uncovering there, Yugi has a strange feeling it has something to do with the red-eyed man he saw in the sea. Prince Atem made a mistake, and now his little mistake is drawing humans in closer to his home. He must find a way to fix everything and drive the humans away, and maybe the kind-looking human he saw could help solve all his problems. The ocean is deep and mysterious, with a power older than time itself that both Yugi and Atem are called by. The only question? Will they answer her call?

Tales from Domino Bay by NaughtyOrgel Rating: E | Word Count: ~17,000 | Status: Complete | 2017

Yugi is trying to catch a fish for his Grandpa's birthday when he becomes distracted by a flirtatious swimmer with a captivating voice.

the third piece by Brandydoll Rating: T | Word Count: ~22,000 | Status: Ongoing | 2021

Atem, prince of the undersea kingdom of Millennium and heir to the thrown, is in an arranged marriage. Atem, fascinated with the world beyond the sea and those who inhabit it, wants nothing to do with it. After Atem risks his own life to save a human from a watery grave, his father’s rage and the fallout that proceeds it is the final push he needs to make his dreams come true. And luckily for Atem, he can get his land legs; for a price, of course. Yugi Muto swears that a mysterious stranger with a beautiful voice rescued him after the KaibaCorp Yacht went down, but everyone insists that he’s the only person they found on the beach. Yugi knows he wasn’t alone that night.

Vows of the Sea by YamiKaykaMotou Rating: T | Word Count: ~4000 | Status: Complete | 2018

Yugi, a human prince is betrothed to Atem, a merman prince. When the queen has other plans for Yugi, will Atem be able to stop them?

There's plenty here to sink you teeth into here already, but standby for the next post tomorrow which will feature mer!Yugi.

[inferno-0]

Hello! If it's possible, could you make more scenarios about Ghidorah and Kaiju reader? Or Godzilla and Kaiju reader? (Btw I love your writing very much and keep up the good work!)

Godzilla x Kaiju!Reader /Headcanons /

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I already have such a request, but it looks like I will have to write this again?

Oh, and one more thing. Sorry for the English. (I assure you, this will become my tradition)

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* If he tries to be a little less rude with people, then with Kaiju it is quite the opposite. Through its thick skin, you can feel the desire to playfully fight with you. Yes, yes, games. Our boy is really tired of bloody fights and wants to feel loved.

* In this case, he will often bite you for any seats that are available to him. Neck, muzzle, paws, sometimes even a thigh, but this is rare, since respect for personal space is above all. Unless, of course, you want to.

* The desire to be with him? Then fall in love with the omnipresent dream. Godzilla loves to sleep and just nap for a short time. During such a period, he is really lazy and does not want to do anything. You just need to stay close to him and snuggle up to his side.

* Don't forget, he's still king.

Even if you become the beloved of this Titan, it does not give you the opportunity to seize someone's territory. No, you can move along these paths, but without unnecessary movements.

* Too restless. He does not want to lose someone else and remain alone on this earth. For this, please. Call him at any difficult moment... Especially during a fight with another Titan, as Godzilla will no longer be able to tolerate loneliness, although he is used to it.

Even if you are stronger than him, it doesn't matter. Call.

* Sometimes you like to lie on the seashore, away from people. Watching the sunset brings a kind of joy and tranquility when there is someone with whom you can do it.

* There is a moment when a roll call is created between you. Especially during your intention to come to him in the Colosseum. You growl loud and clear, showing a sign that it's close, as Godzilla responds with a rhythmic sigh.

* And it is also harmful. He did not let him into the Colosseum, filling the entire space with his body. Until the concrete nest cracked...

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I miss gifs with them so much🤜

[yieldfruit]

"Come closer, and listen to this. From the beginning I have told you plainly what would happen.” And now the Sovereign LORD and His Spirit have sent me with this message. This is what the LORD says—your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel: “I am the LORD your God, who teaches you what is good for you and leads you along the paths you should follow. Oh, that you had listened to my commands! Then you would have had peace flowing like a gentle river and righteousness rolling over you like waves in the sea. Your descendants would have been like the sands along the seashore— too many to count! There would have been no need for your destruction, or for cutting off your family name.” Yet even now, be free from your captivity! Leave Babylon and the Babylonians. Sing out this message! Shout it to the ends of the earth! The LORD has redeemed his servants, the people of Israel. They were not thirsty when he led them through the desert. He divided the rock, and water gushed out for them to drink. “But there is no peace for the wicked,” says the LORD.

Isaiah 48:16-22

[steppingstonesuniverseguide]

Stepping Stones Universe Guide: Subjective Timeline Order (ie from Techno/Wilbur POV) (Under Construction)

This is not the suggested order of reading Stepping Stones for your first time, but you will not be lost. May be fun for a re-read.

NOTE: Because of the nature of Stepping Stones there are large gaps in this timeline still. It will be edited later to reflect this. For first time readers I highly suggest Publication Order and By Story Order is perfectly valid as well.

One Step Foward (OSF)

Chapter 1

Like Footprints on the Seashore (LFotS)

Chapter 1

OSF

Chapter 2

OSF Chapter 3 and LFotS Chapter 2

OSF

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

LFotS

Chapter 3 (Happens during and after OSF Ch5&6)

OSF

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

LFotS

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 (Takes place before and during OSF Ch9)

OSF

Chapter 9

OSF

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

LFotS

Chapter 6

OSF

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

LFotS

Chapter 7

OSF Chapter 15 and LFotS Chapter 8 overlap

OSF

Chapter 16

LFotS

Chapter 9

OSF

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

LFotS

Chapter 10

OSF

Chapter 20

LFotS

Chapter 11

OSF

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

LFotS

Chapter 12

OSF

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

LFotS

Chapter 13

OSF

Chapter 26

OSF

Chapter 27 (End)

LFotS

Chapter 14 (End)

Two Steps Back (TSB)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

101 Steps to Dropping Out of High School Without Your Diploma (100S)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

TSB

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

101S

Chapter 3

There is. So much. That hasn't been written here. Yet.

One More Step Out of the Pit (OMSOotP)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Out of Step (OoS)

Chapter 1

OMSOotP

Chapter 9

OoS

Chapter 2

OMSOotP

Chapter 10

OoS

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

OMSOotP

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

OoS

Chapter 5 (Happens within OMSOoTP Ch 13)

OMSOotP

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

OoS

Chapter 6 (Happens during OMSOoTP Ch 16)

OMSOotP

Chapter 17

OoS

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

OMSOotP

Chapter 18

OoS

Chapter 9

OMSOotP

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

OoS

Chapter 10 (Happens during OMSOoTP Ch 22)

OMSOotP

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

OoS

Chapter 11 (Happens during and after OMSOotP Ch23 &24) (End)

OMSOotP

Chapter 25

One Step at a Time (OSaaT)

Chapter 38: 2am Coffee Time

Chapter 24: Birthday Negotiations

Chapter 7: Lack of Blue

Chapter 12: Linda Restoration (beginning)

Chapter 48: If You Give a Chicken a Lemon

Chapter 40: The Fire Burns Bright

Chapter 28: Crime Lessons: Part 1 (Fuck this Politician in Particular)

Chapter 33: Crime Lessons: Part 2 (Coffee Break)

Chapter 34: Crime Lessons: Part 3 (Crime Occurs) 

Chapter 35: Crime Lessons: Part 4 (Consequences)

Chapter 10: The First Nightmare

Chapter 18: Raccoon Facts (Techno Scene)

Chapter 3: Sick Day & Chapter 4: The Duality of Wilbur and All of the Reasons Technoblade Despises Him

Chapter 11: Pink and Blue

Chapter 29: The Death of TommyInnit

Chapter 30: Brownie Bonding 

Chapter 6: Phil's Reaction Time "Training"

Chapter 15: Phil's Reaction Time "Training" Two: Phil's Revenge (Part 1)

Chapter 16: Phil's Reaction Time "Training" Two: Phil's Revenge (Part 2)

Chapter 20: Phil's Reaction Time "Training" Three: Family Photo

Chapter 23: Training Arc (But What Are We Learning?) (Part 1)

Chapter 41: A Headache Song

Chapter 21: Late Night Guitar Session

Chapter 9: Powerless

Chapter 14: Pillow Fort (Part 1)

Chapter 19: Pillow Fort (Part 2)

Chapter 25: Pillow Fort (Part 3)

Chapter 27: Pillow Fort (Part 4)

Chapter 22: Remote Control

Chapter 46: He Was Just Resting His Eyes He Swears

Chapter 12: Linda Restoration (ending)

Chapter 13: Twisted Training Strategies

Chapter 44: Fits the Crime

Chapter 18: Raccoon Facts (Wilbur's Scene)

Every Path Has It's Puddle

OSaaT

Chapter 32: 3am Milkshakes

Chapter 36: The Curator

Chapter 26: Ghostbur+

Chapter 2: Shampoo Drama

Chapter 5: A Day of Training

Chapter 17: Skinned Knees

Chapter 42: Spring Morning; Hashbrown Breakfast

Chapter 47: Gloss or No Gloss (Grill)

Chapter 31: Cape Caper

Chapter 8: A Disaster in 3 Acts

Chapter 18: Raccoon Facts (Phil's Scene)

Chapter 39: Swimming Lessons

Chapter 45: (Pumpkin) Seeds of Learning

Chapter 37: Henry III

Chapter 43: Nighttime "Walks"

One Stone Loose Upon the Footpath (OSLUtF)

Chapter 1

OMSooTP

Chapter 26/Epilogue

OSLUtF

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

[tulpa-ceramicist]

🪸 Shapeshifting Seashore Seaweed Friend 🍄

[ 🪸 Lovely Shapeshifting Seaweed Friend 🍄]

{ The following denotes a range of possibilities to use as a base or to draw inspiration from, for you to form a tulpa or other created headmate. Please be sure to support healthy divergence and not unwillingly force any particular traits or roles onto your headmates! }

" An eager and explorative sea creature crawls up onto the shore, and shapeshifts workable legs to tromp through the forests. They can't wait to see more of this new world. "

💚 Info Below 💙

Names: Venus, Scallop, Cora/Coral/Coraline, Seasea/Sisi/Cici, Reef, Harbor, Skipper, Nori, Moss, Lichen, Algae

Pronouns: it/its, they/them, she/he, sea/seas, mo/mon, xe/xem

Genders: Demigender, Gendersea, Harboric, Plae-roteus, Genderflight, Goblincoric, Woodlandgender, Mossgender, Mosscoric, Seaweedgender (no link 😔)

Species: Shapeshifter, mermaid, sea creature, anthropomorphic fish, anthropomorphic cephalopod [+kintypes]

Age range (in human terms): 19~28

Orientations: grey-asexual/grey-aromantic, pansexual/panromantic, asexual/panromantic, demisexual/polyromantic, etc

Other Identities: N/A

Other Alterhumanity: conceptkin, oceanhearted, linktyper/'linker, plant multikin, scaleykin, dragonkin, pokékin, plantkin

Preferred colors: deep sea green/aqua, yellow, blue, most greens

Associated emojis: 🪸🍄🌲🍂🌊🦎🐢🐟🦑🦪🐚🏖️

likes: Plants (specifically ocean plants and ones by the seaside), Animals (specifically amphibious animals and small scaley creatures), exploring new places, lighthearted music, people & socialization, obscure things, small spaces, fungi and algae, the sunlight, the water, the bubbly feeling of ocean waves on the beach shore, relaxing environments (inside or outside), creepy-cute things (and just creepy things), Pokémon probably

Hobbies: Exploration, travelling paths & nature trails, gardening, foraging, crafting(jewelry making, weaving, molding clay), collecting (sea glass, cool rocks and shells, nice branches, etc), hanging out where people gather, socializing

Disposition: Friendly and bubbly, with a chill undertone. Is curious about others and the world around it, and enjoys talking with other people because of this. Sees things normally described as gross or dirty as cool and interesting. More focused toward how things & others look/feel/taste/smell/sound/etc and what they're doing than how they feel.

Preferred roles: Socializer, Companion, Crafter/Trinket Crafter, Hobbyist, Wanderer, Coach, Swimmer (*Extra reminder here to not force roles onto created headmates. Look into servitors if you just need something done!)

Associated system terms: Exanthrope, Optimist

Sources & Inspirations: Mermaids with more oceanic features, rocky ocean beaches, Seaweed as hair, coral reefs, forest sunrises

Quirks and patterns of speech: Succint sentences, short words, but generally either very eager and invested or calmly absorbing what's happening/what's being said around mon.

Music Vibes: Wild Child - Enya, Come Along With Me - Adventure Time, Ebudae - Enya, Dear Fellow Traveler - Sea Wolf, Another Believer - Rufus Rainwright, The Moss - Cosmo Sheldrake

Preferred outfit styles: [1] [2] (cape only) [3] [4]

Aesthetic: [1] [2] [3] [4]

FCs: [1] [2] [3]

[cherrsnut]

Hostage - Prologue

Finnick Odair x Healer!Reader

Summary: Up until now, your life has been a solitary one. Being the sole owner of an herbal shop, and apothecary to many fishermen who have been injured. Just when your life seemed to follow the routine you were so used to, your life turns a 360 when you’re suddenly taken away for the 67th Annual Hunger Games. This turn of events forces you to accept the idea the Grim Reaper is stalking close behind you, faster than you had hoped for. 

Tags: Extremely Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Typical THG Violence, Forced Prostitution, Forced Lab Rat, Injury, Mental Health Deterioration, Psychological/Physical Torture, Death, Alcohol/Drug Consumption, Medical Malpractice, Fluff (bc they deserve it).

Word Count: 1.4k

// Next

Prologue

The waves brushed the seashore, singing that beautiful melody only the sea could voice out, a blessing from mermaids, Edna always told you. To keep you safe from the sea monsters whilst you were away in the treacherous ocean. It was an old tell-tale the older folks liked to conspire, while you weren’t sure if you believed it, you weren’t totally against it either. Many accidents occurred deep in the sea, and you had seen firsthand the gravity of those injuries. From scratches to open lacerations with immediate need of stitching. But for you, the worst ones by far were the infections, which naturally happened from a bite injury from a contaminated fish, often leading to amputations, and in some instances, you had to dismember a whole limb off a fisherman.

You looked up again at the scenery before you,  the ball of flame just waking from its slumber was reflecting each ripple in the sea, echoing its color towards you. Edna often told you a mermaid’s voice was the most beautiful sound any human could come across, so much so she was convinced we weren’t prepared to listen to their songs. But at that moment, if what Edna was even half true, you were sure you’d be hypnotized to believe the sun rays had created a hallway for you to walk, to travel down that shiny path further from the horizon to the end of the world even. 

The sky’s creativity brushed their colorful clouds given by the warm colors of the sun. With the pale blue of the sky´s natural form as a canvas, the clouds had been painted into shades of oranges and pinks. A truly ethereal sight, but for you, it only took you a second to take in before your attention was back on opening up the building, already too used to the sight of the waking hours of the sky. 

As if you weren’t cold enough from the night breeze, the building welcomed you with its silent frost air inside. With the signal of the cold shudder creeping up your back. You let a sigh escape, the vapor making itself known, to test if it was simply cold or icy. The visible physical reaction was enough to answer your question, so you got ready to warm up the frozen iglu you were standing. Opening the wooden back door, you frond yourself upon wooden shelves with the same pattern and color as the rest of the store, as the same wood had been used to construct the whole building, the tree of the artist being rustic pine.

Containers upon containers of unopened herbalism knowledge, each one of them sealed and numbered by none other than yourself. Nature itself had been manifested in there, some plants had been slowly growing for you to collect their fruits and eventually put them away here, to be used shortly after.  Others had been cut and placed with a bow and tag wrapped around it. Many types of plants and flowers existed within the store, some intact within the vase, otherwise, others had been churned and sliced or made liquid for your clientele, from medicinal or aromatic to poisonous antidotes. So it was natural when the herbal shop had the attraction of those who were in need of some sort of healing, whether it be physical or spiritual, the herbal store was open for those in need.

In reality, the owner of the shop had been Edna from the beginning, all before she passed a year ago. And since it seemed you were the next person who could almost mimic Edna’s miracles, or so the city named it,  it seemed you were the best fit to further her legacy. Of course, adding the fact that you were the closest person to Edna. 

You found the dry wood, and you were pleasantly surprised to find some logs to be completely dried off, you stacked them up onto the basket. Edna was especially adamant about using pine woods because their value came from its easy way to burn right off the bat. Of course, that meant that pine wood was more prone to burn faster, and that’s when oak wood made its shining appearance. Its harsh, hard, and thick texture made them burn for longer hours without constant checking up, and while Edna often complained about their prize difference, she still seemed to have some sort of dependency on the fiery warm calmness the chimney gave. Just a nice safe haven from the cold weather outside.

You often had Edna in the back of your mind throughout each passing day, especially the constant reminder of her stubborn and disciplined nature. So much so, many things, which you’d get abused over, were as simple as things, whether be it moving a flowerpot barely an inch to the right because “it just looked wrong before” or cutting rosemary “the proper way” and to “never disrespect the ways of herbalism again”, which quite frankly exhausted you to no end, earning her the name of Old Hag, only spoken when she wasn’t present of course, because, the thought of her finding out about her secret nickname was more terrifying than straight-up kicking a peacemaker in the ass.

Firing up the hungry insides of the chimney, you left the pine inside as its first dish, a quick little snack. With that thought in mind, you couldn’t help but murmur a joke to the chimney to be patient for the main dish because “good things take time”. 

Still, with a jacket covering your frame, you leaned against the window facing the perfect view of the port just a few feet away from you. Fishermen, with their young disciples, already untying their boats to take them to a new adventure, which most times led them to Edna’s shop.

You tended to think of those memories as a pleasantry, sure it had become ordinary and almost a monotone routine that you expected to face on a daily basis. Still, as you saw their dark silhouettes, and came to face with the much smaller silhouettes, you couldn’t help but frown with the slight pitching of your heatrings painfully.

 It was hard to forget tomorrow was the Annual Reaping. Unconsciously you gritted your teeth, it was something about their loud laughs while leaving the seashore, their shouts which were provoking the sea to give them tough challenges during the day, and just how they were signing joyful tunes, ignorant of what laid the very next day made you immensely uncomfortable. You gulped down hard, and as per usual you recited a little blessing for their safe return.

You blinked away from their overly optimistic sight, something you somehow found you couldn’t handle, the taste of bitterness present all the way to your heart. It left you with bubbled thoughts that popped into your mind. Pessimism and dejection were writing desolate letters in your brain, words too melancholic you regretted you could never send to anyone.

The little cling from the bell resonated, signaling the announcement of an early client. You had no choice but to brush aside your powerless thoughts and assist the woman who had just come in. Brown short curly locks bounced until they hit her shoulders. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Ashwood! Strange for you to be an early bird!” you trailed to a very much familiar face. You forced your learned charm out on display. Mrs. Ashwood took a second to look over your features, her sad eyes roamed over your figure, to take in all your shape. You could only suspect the reason behind it being much darker, she probably wanted to take one last look at you in case they were to take you away.

She tilted her head uncertain about the upbeat mood you were in. Then it dawned on you, that the fish children were doing the very same thing as you. It wasn’t necessarily ignorance or lack of knowledge of what was going to transpire, but rather trying to grasp any sharp shard of normalcy they had left before it would be too late. Before they’d be far away from home, fending for themselves in the arena, and before their untimely and cruel fate. So before the surface of the water rises atop your head and drowns you, you’d rather play along the unawareness card for a little while more. At least just until the Reaping hour tomorrow. 

Next

Hey guys!! this is my first fic here on Tumblr. If you like just how the story goes lmk and I'll put you in the Taglist. Anyways, love you guys MUAH <3

[thelordofgifs]

a tiny little ficlet for @eilinelsghost! thank you for being such a wonderful friend <3

-

The first bright rays of Laurelin were brushing Eärwen’s cheek. She sighed, luxuriating in their gentle warmth and in the blissful silence – just a little longer, please—

There was an eager tapping at the door. “Ammë! Ammë, wake up!”

Eärwen and Finarfin had both agreed, when their son had been yet a babe-in-arms, that they would never lock their bedroom doors at night, never imply to Finrod in either word or deed that he was not first in their hearts. It was a policy that had many benefits: for who could possibly deny the tender pleasure that sparked in your heart the first time your baby stood quietly over your bed in the middle of the night and then confessed, grave and a little tearful, that he had had a nightmare, or else crawled warm and sleepy between the covers in the drowsy mornings, listening with his head on your breast to the song of the seashore outside? 

Eärwen would not forego that for anything. All the same, she thought she could possibly do without this sort of morning.

It seemed to her that Finrod was bouncing on her bed before the door had even swung fully open. “Wake up, Ammë! It’s cleaning-time!”

“Ingoldo, my elen-lingwincë,” said Eärwen. She reached out to ruffle his silky golden curls. “Yesterday we scrubbed Haru’s ballroom-floor. The day before that we spent hours cleaning sand off the paths around the rock-pools. What else could there possibly be left to clean?”

Finarfin, still mostly asleep beside her, huffed a small laugh. “Open-ended question. A beginner’s mistake.” For it was true, Eärwen saw, that Finrod’s grey eyes were bright with thought, and he was giving her question serious consideration.

“The beach,” he decided at last. “There are lots of gems on the beach, Ammë, and they’re all crusted over with sand and dirt and things! We should polish them.”

“Ingoldo, darling,” Eärwen protested. “There are hundreds and thousands of jewels on the beach.”

Finrod nodded earnestly. “And millions and billions!” he declared. Finwë his grandfather had been teaching him his numbers lately, Eärwen recalled.

“You had best make a start, then,” murmured Finarfin, the traitor.

“Perhaps Atya should help you clean today,” Eärwen suggested.

Finrod thought about this for a moment. “No, Atya needs to rest,” he said. “But you can help, Ammë! Come on!” He tugged insistently at her arm.

Eärwen stifled a sigh. It was going to be a very long day.

[cybsoo2]

temptation

00. teaser

╰┈➤ synopsis — After a shipwreck that left you stranded, you now find yourself stuck on a remote island. Distracted by the beauty, freedom, and five boys that inhabit the land, you fall further into the arms of temptation. That is, until strange events make you question what secrets lay buried beneath the sand.

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!faerie!txt x reader

╰┈➤ word count — 1.8k

╰┈➤ content warning — nothing!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ; chapter 1 to this series will be posted on august 30th, at 4:00pm PDT. if you want to be added to the taglist send an ask, message, or comment :)

The salty sea is unfamiliar to your tongue. The waves that wash over you kiss your lips with every swell. The ocean breathes in shallow breaths that turn the tide. You’re swallowed under a sudden wave when you finally decide to open your eyes. 

Your cheek is pressed up against a cool surface. You reach out to run your fingers through the soft sand; digging your hand in deeper to ground yourself. Dehydration has left you dizzy. You lick your lips to get rid of dryness; spitting out the bits of sand that stick to your tongue.

You turn on your back to gauge your surroundings. A bright light blinds you and you bring up your hand to shield your eyes. The warm rays slip past your fingertips. You drop your arm back down once your eyes begin to settle in the sunlight. The void is filled with a bright blue. Millions of miles of nothing but the sapphire shade. The sea and sky battle against each other, two shades morphing into one. No ships sailing, no birds fluttering, you’re entirely alone in this vast expanse of nothingness.

You turn to the side, pieces of your past shipwreck are spread out across the shore. You reach out to touch the destruction. Discarded and decaying, all symbols of safety are ruined. Your breath begins to grow heavy. This realization rests like a 20 pound weight on your chest. You sit up slightly, leaning back on your elbows. Whipping your head around you, you can see that the beach goes on for miles. It stretches out across the horizon and wraps around the curves of the island. Sand, trees, and wreckage are all that you can see. 

You stand up fast, fighting off the feeling of lightheadedness. You swallow down the sandpaper sensation in your throat. 

“Hello!” Your voice tears into your throat. “Is anyone there?! Hello!” Your brittle voice breaks down against its misuse, but you continue screaming into the silence. While you shout at the seashore, you begin to search the beach for any stragglers from the wreck. Desperate eyes scour the empty shore as your cries are carried out to sea. 

You continue to search for what feels like hours until hope holds out its hand and shows you what seems to be… footprints? 

Small markings are dug into the sand and you sprint ahead to take a look. The tracks start in the sand and stretch out into the treeline. You walk alongside them, matching each step with your own. The footprints draw you further into the unknown forest. The woods welcome you. Shifting and reshaping its terrain to form a faint path. It pulls you in before you can think twice. 

Too naive to understand and too distraught to care, you turn a blind eye to your surroundings. Unbeknownst to you, magic flows through the forest. Running like roots through the entire island. It’s intertwined with the trees, dispersed in the air, and familiar to any lifeform that calls this island home. 

While you may not understand what is still unknown, you can feel a power that pulses in the air. An aura that you can’t quite put a name to, but can recognize its strength and ecstasy. It makes a faint humming noise that rings in your ears and hovers with every step you take. It’s not a nuisance like one would assume, rather a relaxant that washes away your worries. 

This feeling feels familiar, as is everything else that meets your eye. Nothing has any resemblance to reality. Everything is warped into a perfect, pink, picture. In your hazy recollection, it reminds you of a drifting dream. The place where sorrow and anger are absent. It’s a child’s paradise filled with fairies, mermaids, monsters, and all things interesting. A sacred sanctuary reserved for the fallen youth. Yet, it’s a wonder how you wound up here. An island lost at sea, never mapped and only known to those who spend their lives searching for it. Perhaps, the devil needed a shiny new thing to toy with. And who is he to resist a sweet thing so pure. 

You’ve followed your fantasies to temptation. Lured out by someone else’s lucky streak. The gates left unguarded to a new and interesting enigma. But when what you believe to be a dream starts morphing into a realm of reality, why would you want to leave? Even when you realize that the roots run red with dark desires and a sinful touch, would you even be able to escape?

A rustling in the bushes causes you to look up from your feet. You gain a feeling of unease and stop to hold your breath. The trees seem to taunt you, dropping leaves on your head that make you jump out of your skin. The bushes shake with laughter and the birds twitter teasing remarks. 

You can feel yourself growing closer. A certain presence plays hide-and-seek in the shadows. A storm swims in your stomach, the tides turning and making you feel almost powerless; like prey being toyed with before the predator pounces. The sinking sensation drags you down, your feet feeling like lead and knees threatening to give in. But you push through the fear, determined to find a solution to this mess.

You follow the footsteps further into the forest. Twisting and turning leaving you dizzy with dread. The tracks even appear to do laps and loops around you. Have you gotten lost already? You stop to settle your doubt for only a second before continuing on the crooked path. You remain running, just trying to hold on to your sanity while the sun begins to set. Darkness is falling fast and you'd like to find some sort of shelter before the sky submits to the black abyss.

As the minutes morph into miles, the footprints seem to appear fainter. Almost as if the culprit is floating with softer steps. The footprints then stop completely in the middle of nowhere. Two prints pressed into the dirt drop off into thin air. Nobody stands before you, no noises are heard, you’re surrounded by nothing at all. You lean down to give the prints a closer look and-

“BOO!” A sudden shout sends you to the ground. A shocked scream leaves your lips as you turn around in terror. You look up from your spot, sprawled out on the forest floor to see what seems to be… a boy? His silhouette blocks the sun, hiding his face under a dark overcast. He peers down into your eyes. You’re only able to make out the smug smile that settles itself in the shadows. He gives a soft laugh before asking, “I scared you didn’t I?” There’s a playful tone to his words and while he stares down at you with a smile on his lips and a shine in his eyes, you sit in shock. All coherent words have run away from your mind, leaving you stranded in silence with a stranger.

The boy kneels down in front of you, holding himself up with his hands. Curiosity catches his heart and he moves to poke and prod at the pretty little thing that has fallen at his feet. He brings one hand up to start teasing at your hair. He toys with the loose locks and tugs at it when you attempt to back away. 

“Who are you?” You ask with hesitancy. The boy only continues to pull at your hair, ignoring your question. “You weren’t from the shipwreck were you? I would’ve remembered you.” The boy's attention seems to have been captured by your question.

“You would’ve remembered me? Do you really think I’m that handsome?” He says with a smirk. His hand has stopped still in your hair, now fully focused on observing your reaction.

“No, I just would’ve remembered someone annoying like you.” Although his attractiveness does grab your attention, your sudden irritation at his behavior is much more prominent. Smacking his hand away from your hair, you stand up from your spot on the ground and he’s quick to follow. A faint frown falls on his face. “Are you from here then? Do you know how to help me?” He seems to stare right through your questions, amused by your actions instead of concerned. “Do you know how I can get off the island?”

“Why would you want to leave? Have you looked around you?” He asks in confusion and stares at you like you're stupid.

You tilt your head from staring at him to look at the trees tinted pink. Blushing blossoms sprout from each branch while butterflies flutter around you. The sliver of sunshine that snakes through the treetops shines down on the forest floor. The light reflects off every shiny surface, producing glitter in the air. 

The boy drags you out of your heavenly haze once he takes two steps closer. He leans forward the slightest bit to be on eye level. 

“I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.” His question comes off more demanding than you expected, leaving no room for disagreement. You nod your head to agree and he begins his interrogation. “You said you were in a shipwreck, what exactly do you mean?”

You spill your secrets into the silence. “I’d been traveling by ship for about a week before a storm hit, and well… we went under.” Your voice begins to break off. A shiver crawling down your spine at the recollection of the horrific incident. Water lines your weary eyes, but you blink back your tears before you can get caught up in your emotions. You rub at your eyes rather roughly, ignoring the boy’s intensive staring as you ask your question again. “There has to be some way to leave the island. Are there any boats? Any other survivors?” 

“There might be.” He stares straight into your skull. Almost as if he’s trying to search your thoughts with x-ray vision. Your agitation only seems to grow at his unclear answers. 

“Well, where are they? Can you take me to them?” Your voice grows frantic, clinging onto the frail piece of hope that there might be help for you. 

“What if I don’t want to tell you?” The strange boy seems to gain a sick sense of enjoyment watching you struggle. Your anger rises into your cheeks and a cherry blossom blush bleeds into your face. The boy has to hold back another taunt at the tip of his tongue. 

“What? Why not?!” 

“Why not? You ask too many questions, it’s starting to get on my nerves.” The boy rolls his eyes in irritation. He takes a step closer and you stare up at him through a shocked expression. Before you can yell out your annoyance and anger at his lack of sympathy, he shuts you up with some interesting information.

“And it doesn’t matter anyways, even if I wanted to help you, I wouldn’t be able to.” 

You ask your next question already dreading the answer, “And why’s that.”

“Because no one ever leaves.”

➜ ┊: (next) ᵎ ✰┊: (masterlist) ᵎ

© cybsoo2 2024, all rights reserved ‎

[melmac78]

Here’s part 6 of my USS Lexington story. I had to do some rewrites to the original because the original location didn’t work right (at least anymore: it’s based on my memory of the ship in 1994).

Pictured are areas mentioned in this chapter: chow lines (breakfast here, but they have lunch too), sick bay, medical storage area*, and engine room, and from the CIC tour, a porthole that uses the climate control to keep things cool, and model airplanes. The hallway I think is the loop around for lower decks.

(Note: this is where I’m having to start major rewrites, so… please be patient.)

Chapters: Five Four Three Two One

•••••

The rest of the day was a bit cloudy, but for everyone aboard the Lexington, there was quite a bit of fun.

Several of the groups were on the flight deck, looking at the planes and other artifacts.

A couple of the kids noticed a bit of water in one of the wheel wells and, thinking it was from rain, pretended it was the perfect dramatic landing for one of their toy planes they got from the gift shop.

A ship leader, seeing the mess they were making, ran up to them and stopped the action. They took them to a scout lead, but didn’t miss a college student also touching the water.

The scoutmaster made them put the toys in a plastic bag that he held out, scolding the boys that they needed to be cautious around the planes.

As far as the Tracy family, John took a nap and tried to eat a little bit more the others had brought down from the party in the break room.

He was able to eat a couple more of the seafood stuffed mushrooms and potato skins, washing it down with a Sprite.

Feeling a little bit better from both, he elected to again to the captains quarters and CIC tour.

If he decided to stay by a couple of the climate control ports to cool down a little bit every so often it wasn’t a big deal he decided,

Besides, there were a lot of model planes to enjoy, and it would take longer than a few minutes to see every one.

The others enjoyed other paths and then took a break to enjoy some of the other food in their quarters as a snack.

Grandma Tracy had elected to go off board for the evening and spend time with Kayo. She knew that the young woman was interested in eating at one of the restaurants on the ocean and spending the afternoon windsurfing at the National Seashore at Padre Island… if only because Sally’s bones had ached going up and down the ladders.

The cloudy evening turned into a slightly drizzly night, although for those who were still aboard for Lexington after it closed for the evening still had a lot of adventure coming.

Mess had come and gone, with the brothers eating various amounts of their meals. They spent the rest of the time of the meal visiting with campers and answering questions they had about the Thunderbirds. John was a bit quieter than normal, but would answer the few inquiries directed his way.

The cake was also well received after singing Scott the “Happy birthday song,” though Scott made sure that Virgil got all the credit for the idea.

The rest of the night’s events lead up to the big event - the scavenger hunt.

The campers, Tracy brothers and others were looking forward to this hunt as the top prize was custom-made dog tags.

Scott had a set from his days serving in the Air Force, however, these were done in the old typewriter embossed tin back in the 1940s. So, ever the history buff, he was looking forward to trying his luck.

The brothers paired off in twos, with the space brothers teamed up, then Scott and Virgil as a team.

Gordon ended up paired with a young woman who was interested in becoming a member of WASP so he didn’t mind being the odd man out.

The five teased each other trying to say who would win – though John reminded them that it could be anyone who won, including the other groups that were on the ship.

Jacob blew the start whistle, and each of the teams could go to any of the tour paths and any order they wanted to answer their questions.

Alan was so excited about trying to win this prize however, after the hangar deck questions were answered, he led John on the lower deck tour – the wrong way.

In spite of that, the two started the tour and just answered everything backward.

Made sense too as they realized the flow of the paths made this a wise choice.

Little did they know that going backward would be one of the best and worst decisions they could’ve made.

“OK, it says 'The crew’s mess hall served breakfasts X many hours per day.' Do you see the answer John?" asked Alan.

The astronaut narrowed his eyes as he looked at the display in front of him. "Yeah, it says '316'," said John, blinking his eyes. He wasn't sure if that was the right answer everything seemed a little blurry. *I should've brought my glasses,* he thought. He occasionally had trouble with his eyesight after spending a bit of time in space.

Alan however glanced over his shoulder and laughed. "Bro, that's the number of calories on the sausage," he said and, seeing the placard at the end of the line, wrote the correct answer.

John smiled weakly as he reread the number. "Yeah, you're right," he said, rubbing his neck.

The youngest brother paused seeing the older man’s gesture. He scrutinized his fellow astronaut, and his laughter faded.

“John... you sure you're alright?" asked Alan. "You've been acting odd since din - uh, mess this evening. Why don't you turn in for the night and I'll finish this up?"

The redhead shook his head. “No, I'm fine Alan. Besides, we can get back at Gordo for calling us space cadets," he said with a faint grin, looking at the display again.

The youngest Tracy laughed. "Yeah - just because he was in WASP and knows ships doesn't mean he's got this won," he said and started down the path.

John however stared at the Mess Hall display, as though a bit dazed. "Can you help me," he said to the mannequins, frowning when they didn't respond. "Hello, can you guys hear me?"

A squeaky voice broke through. "Very funny John - these don't talk like the 'captain' did in his quarters," said Alan, remembering the tour.

John shook his head, clearing it. “Right,… just making sure they’re not Autons… though they’d be better than the projected face ones,” he said.

The youngest smiled. “Yeah… ‘Doctor Who’ did animatronic plastic better,” he said, and checked his watch. “Look, we've got to hurry so we can win."

John nodded. "You're right, they just look real. Anyway, this is about a third of the way through the tour, and we've still got to go through the other routes…” he said as they headed down toward the sick bay area.

Privately though, John was worried something really was wrong. He still felt weak, even after the nap and food. John dismissed it initially, as that could be from the space sickness and not eating a lot in the mess.

Now he wasn’t as sure. His ears buzzed slightly, and while he chalked it off this time to the fluorescent lights lighting their path, he wasn’t so sure.

Then there was the fact John felt warm on the tour route, which was odd as he knew it was air conditioned.

"Then again, anything on the ship is warmer than the sleeping berth," he muttered under his breath as they stopped by the pre-op and operating rooms in sickbay to answer questions.

Alan asked him something, but it sounded slightly blurred. "Yeah Alan - it says they used ether and halothane for anesthesia," he said, looking at the machinery, "doctor" and "patient" in the surgery.

"Um... John, that's not what I asked. In fact that isn't even a question on the hunt," said the youngest, looking through the list.

Confused at the non-sequitur, Alan looked up at his older brother. Seeing John's pallor and dazed look, the teen gently, but firmly grabbed his brother by the arm. "Let's take a break - you look like you really do need one."

John nodded and leaned against the wall, running a hand over his face, wincing at the slight headache he had. "Good idea," he said tiredly. Seeing Alan's look of concern, he smiled. "I'm fine Alan..."

Alan scoffed in a way that closely sounded like Scott's. "Yeah, sure. John - you're a bit pale - well, more than normal, and your cheeks are still slightly flushed," he said, reaching out to check his brother's wrist pulse. "Plus, you're acting funny again, and I don't mean in the Gordon's failed joke way."

John shied away from the younger man's icy touch. "Funny? How?"

"Your answer listing two anesthetics to the question of 'How many towels are in the surgery'. You're never that far off on an answer, even concussed," said Alan.

The older man quirked an eyebrow at the remark. “Hey, it was interesting they had drugs that if they weren't careful could knock out more than the patient in the room," said John, shrugging.

"Maybe," muttered Alan, who was more concerned about the present day issue. "Look, I know you don't want to disappoint Scott, and want the 1940s style dog tags… even if for me… but…”

“But…?”

“But you can't keep pushing yourself too hard there."

"I'm not pushing myself too hard Alan,” sighed John, though he was doubting himself.

The youngest scoffed. "Bro, I love you but let's be real - astronaut to fellow astronaut. You haven't been at 100 percent since you came down from Five," he said bluntly. "You passed out in the living room shortly after you arrived home, then you almost missed this because you had trouble boosting up your levels….”

John reluctantly nodded. "I know - but I'm eating everything that you guys tell me to..."

"Not quite John. You only ate half your hamburger and one Oreo cookie out of six tonight - plus left the chips untouched," said Alan pointedly. "That isn't everything."

"You guys also made me eat the meal Elmo’s brought today ... about two hours before mess," retorted the older brother. “Then a few of the appetizers from Scott’s party…”

"That still isn't a whole lot John, even for you but…"

Seeing Alan pause for thought, John placed a gentle hand over Alan’s mouth.

Seeing the youngest twitch his nose in irritation, John removed it, and continued with a smile. "But this is Scott's birthday and I didn't want to disappoint him being stuck on Tracy Island,” he finished.

The youngest however was not convinced of it was worth his brother’s health.

"Yet Scott would much rather you be 'stuck on Tracy Island' than scaring him like you did yesterday," Alan said pointedly.

Seeing his brother start to speak, Alan put his hand up. "No John… you freaked him and Virgil out - not to mention Gordo and me - trying to take an unconscious header off the flight deck.”

John narrowed his eyes in challenged. "But - again - I didn't lose consciousness yesterday..."

Alan however put a hand on John's shoulder, making him look into his younger brother's blue eyes. "John… contrary to your opinion, you nearly did."

The elder Tracy paused for a moment, and then ran a hand through his bangs. "Not you too," he said, sighing in frustration. "Virgil told me his diagnosis after mess yesterday, then ordered me to lie down again for an hour before the evening programs. I still don't believe him though..."

"You need to John. When Virg said you looked worse than a zombie he meant it," said Alan, shuddering. "Bro, you really looked like the ones in my game - even I know that's too close to out cold."

The astronaut brushed it off. "But Alan, I'm feeling far, FAR better than yesterday. The rests and food have helped a lot," he said. Seeing his youngest brother give a skeptical look, he chuckled. "But, since you insist I'll snag some of Virgil's gummy bears when we get done with this part of the tour."

"Promise?" inquired Alan, quirking a skeptical eyebrow.

"Yes, I promise. I'll leave the white-eyed zombies for the video games," John crossed his heart, smiling as he glanced at his watch.

He then straightened up. "Look, we've got an hour to finish the hunt. We'd better hurry or Squid Kid could get the last laugh."

The youngest nodded reluctantly, but admitted that John's dazed look had faded. He smiled and patted hod brother on the back. "FAB John, but let me know if you need another break," he said, then snapped his fingers. “Of course, we can get a soda from the machine at the dining room area.”

The older astronaut nodded. “Sounds good,” he agreed, and they continued their scavenger hunt. They answered the questions for the Sickbay area correctly this time and continued.

After a few confusing turns in the chapel, leading them in circles and briefly going the wrong direction, the duo finally reached the hatch that lead to the engine room.

Alan frowned as he saw the notice. "Caution: Engine Room has low overhangs, narrow pathways and tight spots. Proceed with caution," he read and turned to John.

"Tight spots?" said John, wincing. He didn't want his mild phobia to set in.

Seeing his brother pale a bit however, Alan started putting together a possible issue and placed a hand on his shoulder. "John - if you can't handle small spaces with opaque walls, I can do this one on my own," he said.

Seeing John's surprised look, the younger man shrugged. "Going to bed or waking up in the morning not being able to see sky or stars can make anyone mildly claustrophobic," Alan admitted. "I've had some issues with it on this trip."

"Huh - you sawed logs all night. How did you get over it?" said John, amused.

"Slept on my stomach - the top bunk for some reason feels a lot like the rug on my bedroom floor that way," Alan said, chuckling. Seeing John was still indecisive, he gave a kind smile and gestured to the stairs. "But your call here bro - wait or go?"

The red-head shook his head. "No, I'll go. You might be 20 but that's ONE place we need the buddy system," he said. "Don't want you falling over the side into the engines - again."

Alan rolled his eyes as he started his descent. "Seriously, tripping over sofa cushions onto MAX does NOT count as falling into any engines," he said sourly, but seeing John crack a smile, joined in on the humor.

Once John reached the deck the two started on their scavenger hunt. As they walked through the path, John started to feel warm again - but this time it was different.

The path seemed to be a bit more uneven, and John had to steady himself several times. John dismissed it as minor buckles and floor imperfections caused by 118 years of tourists and sailors walking the paths.

Alan however was so interested in the large machinery and dials that he too didn't notice John's growing unsteadiness.

They reached a wall with wheels, valves, dials and other machinery. "EOS looks good," said John seriously. He was starting to feel even warmer and was confused as to what his favorite AI was doing on the Lexington. He half expected to start being pelted with bagels and have the gravity ring turned off.

Alan however hadn't heard the EOS part and chuckled as he touched the surface of one of the valve wheels. "Yeah, she does look good for 118 years old. Still - there's enough panels on this wall that they probably would've wanted something like EOS to control them," he said as he answered another question at that location marker.

John however was fascinated with the dials, touching a few to see how they felt. In his mind he thought he was really on Five, and wondering why EOS used holograms to look like a 1940s ship. The images kept switching from both themes, confusing him to the point he paused.

When John didn't move, Alan pulled his shirt sleeve. "Come bro, we're almost done, then we'll take another break before finishing up," he said.

The older Tracy snapped out of his hallucination and realized he was on the Lexington. He heard Alan's comments, slightly distorted. "Good, glad to hear," said John, nodding and they continued walking down a longer hallway that lead them on a catwalk over several larger engines.

Shortly after a jump… at least to John it felt there was one, they were in a hallway again, heading to the main crew dining area.

This was where there was a soda machine with refreshments he needed… he remembered, looking forward to another Sprite.

But… as they were heading through more of the medical area, John started noticing some was definitely wrong.

He paused when he realized Alan's voice sounded more like a literal chipmunk's chatter than his still slightly squeaky voice.

“That's odd," he mused and started assessing how he felt again - really felt.

John noticed he was even more tired than he had a few hundred yards earlier, even compared to the engine room, and on a normal, even path.

Looking down, he saw his hands were shaking slightly.

"Alan's right... I have low blood sugar again and need that Sprite," he thought at first, but then came a heatwave - and the trembling got worse.

The combination of the two then alerted him to a more troubling issue. "That's not right - I usually end up chilled," he thought as he looked at the hallway with a medical storage hatch not too far to his right.

It was still in front of him, but the now only sharp thing in the room in his vision.

The rest of the started to blur into a tunnel, growing darker...

It was then John had a moment of clarity. He knew those signs, having fallen victim to them a few times.

He wasn't hypoglycemic he vaguely realized - he'd eaten enough foods to stop that issue.

This was worse - and this time he wasn't going to escape its clutches.

"Alan... I-I n-need...rab-bits," he tried saying as loudly as he could, but it came out as soft as a whisper.

Feeling his muscles quiver, trying to keep himself standing on the narrow hallway, John realized then his estimation was drastically wrong and tried to prepare himself...

Alan however was looking at an answer, not sure if was correct. "Hey John, I think this is wrong. Do you think the X-Ray room…” he said, and paused hearing his brother murmur something wildly offbase.

"Rabbits? Bro, what? -" Confused, the younger Tracy heard a stumble near the hatch he passed.

He turned just in time to see John's eyes roll back as he passed out.

John had been trying to get to the wall to sit down when he collapsed, but fell backward and toward the right, landing in the netting.

While it kept him from hitting his head, when he kept sagging, most of John's weight fell into the net.

To Alan's horror however, the nets there to protect guests - several decades old, then started to tear under John's 180 pounds.

John landed on the plexiglass, which at its age started to crack under him.

"John!" shouted Alan, as the cracks got louder. Diving, he barely caught his brother around the legs and knees as the net tore fully.

Alan succeeded, if barely, keeping his older brother from going completely over to the floor 30 feet below them.

The youngest did shift slightly as gravity pulled John down until his knees were over the thin lip of the hatch.

Fortunately for John, there was enough clearance under the hatch to avoid smacking his head on any item underneathwhen he stopped being a human pendulum.

Unfortunately for John, Alan's position in saving the older astronaut made the younger essentially a human brake, unable to do anything except keep the duo from falling.

"John! Can you hear me?" Alan persisted, only to frown when his brother didn't respond.

Alan carefully worked himself into a position to try and help pull John back over onto the walkway, but quickly stopped when he felt John start to slip further over the edge.

Feeling his own feet slip on the flooring when he slide some, Alan turned his head to find a secure leg hold. The teen saw what was left of the guard supporting the net. It was not floor to ceiling, but any little bit until aid came had to be enough.

He then put his other leg around his ankle, putting himself in a variation of a figure four leg lock. He was able to reach the other side and hold on to it, creating a more secure human brake. The younger Tracy then readjusted his grip around John's legs.

Alan let out a slight sigh of relief as he kept hold of his senseless brother, but knew he couldn't do it indefinitely.

"OK, plan B," said Alan, who used a special whistle code he had Brains program into his watch to turn the communicator feature on. "Alan to Scott, Virgil - anyone," he said in his rescue voice.

Virgil's bass timber spoke up, chucking. "I read you Alan, did you get -"

The youngest just interrupted. "John's collapsed!"

The medic's tone abruptly changed. Alan never joked when it came to John's health. "Where are you?"

"Lower decks - sickbay - medical supply hatch - I'm hanging on to him," said Alan, grunting slightly when he felt John's body shift slightly.

"Hanging on? What..." said Virgil, growing even more worried.

"He's fallen halfway into the hatch. I have him, but can't move without risking him - and me - going completely over."

Scott, who was at the machinery fabrication portion of the route, started running through the lower deck tour. "FAB Alan - just hold on to him. I'm on my way," he said, into his watch. "Gordon, go find Jacob and tell him we have a man down in the lower deck tour."

"FAB Scott," said the aquanaut, who had been studying the "Pearl Harbor" movie display in the Foc'sle. He fortunately was near the end of that tour so he wouldn't have too far to run for supplies and help.

The medic, quickly followed his eldest brother. "Alan - I'm right behind Scott. How is John now?" said Virgil, who then heard some minor shuffling and Alan's voice.

Hearing no further response, he grew even more concerned that he might be treating two patients. "Alan do you copy? Is John awake?"

"FAB, I copy," said Alan, to his older brother's relief. "But John's still out like a light."

Virgil frowned. "You sure? You can’t see ..."

"FAB… I bit him to be sure."

The medic did a double take. "You *bit* him?" said Virgil, not sure if he heard right.

"Well, I've kinda got my hands full - how else am I going to check?" snapped Alan.

Virgil started to argue, then shook his head. Given Alan was holding onto John for dear life, he admitted it probably was the only thing Alan could do besides yell to test his brother's awareness level.

The medic continued. "Understood Alan, but don't bite him again," said the medic as the two continued running down the hallway. "When John starts coming to, keep him calm so he doesn't cause you both to fall."

Alan started to say something when he felt John again try to slip through his grasp. "Hurry Virg! I don't know how long I can hold on," he grunted, holding on tighter and praying his brothers got there in time.

8888888888888888888

Three minutes later, Scott and Virgil quickly approached the area. “Alan, give us an update on John," said Scott as he passed by the Missing Man table.

"He's moaned softly a couple of times, but that's it," groaned the youngest, pained. The discomfort in his shoulders and legs securing his brother was agonizing, but he vowed to let his joints dislocate first before risking John's safety.

The two older brothers frowned as they continued down the hallway. "He should've come to by now," said Virgil.

"Why hasn’t he?" asked Scott, thinking space sickness and the long night before took its toll.

"Not sure," said Virgil, having thought of at least 10 more serious reasons at the moment. "Of course Alan can't really tell if John's woken up though…”

The pilot nodded grimly, understanding. "Let’s get them safe first..." said Scott as they arrived. They froze in their tracks briefly, assessing the scene.

Alan was on the floor and using his weight and grip on thin - but bolted down, pieces of metal to secure John's legs, doing what he could to keep his brother from becoming a pancake.

John's legs from the knees down were the only part visible on the high walkway. Leaning over the hatch, they saw John was upside down facing the an empty, but no less deadly, 30 feet or so header to the floor. Between his lax face and limp body language, John could almost be mistaken for a washcloth hanging from a laundry line to dry.

Scott and Virgil were thankful Alan was there to catch his brother, but worried as it had been several minutes since John's collapse with no known signs of awareness.

The oldest Tracy shook his head and quickly walked forward. "Alan, we're here," he said as he reached for John's legs, hoping to lighten some of the strain on Alan. "Did he hit anything going over?"

Alan by then could only whimper slightly in pain from his locked muscles. Scott pulled a MiniMAX from his pocket he had used to take aerials of the ship, and launched him to assess the situation below them.

Virgil however carefully stepped around his youngest brother and got on John's other side. He knelt over and unabashedly grabbed the waistband of John's Bermuda shorts and what fistful of shirt he could grab safely.

The man paused in the action - he had to be sure before risking further injury to John. "Scott, what did MiniMAX find" he said.

"The area under the hatch is clear. John couldn’t hit anything. Still unresponsive," said Scott.

"OK Scott. Now, this isn't the way I'd like to move him but we have little choice," the medic said. "On the count of three, you and I will pull John up and adjust positions until I can get him around the ribs to turn him onto the hallway."

"What-about-me," said Alan, who finally caught his breath as Virgil lessened John's weight.

"Keep a hold of his legs and pull as we lift," said the medic gently.

Scott nodded as he knelt down to assist. "FAB Virg," said the pilot and on three, they carefully pulled up their brother. Virgil would grab as much of new shirt as their brother's position changed.

Once John was high enough, Virgil had Alan move out of the way so the two older brothers could carefully remove their ill brother.

Getting a firm grip, Virgil was then able to reach around John's shoulders and head safely. The duo then gently turning a further 45 degrees, gently laying John on the hallway floor.

After dragging him a few feet back to not risk anyone else falling through the hatch, the medic then checked John's vitals.

“His pulse is fast and his skin is hot," said Virgil as Scott lowered the storage hatch. "He might have heat exhaustion."

Scott nodded. "We need to move him to a cooler location," he said, lifting his watch. "Gordon, meet us at the medical storage hatch near sickbay. If Jacob is there, ask he get…”

"FAB - Jacob is getting the trauma kit. I’m on my way with a stokes if needed and a first aid kit,” said the aquanaut as if reading Scott’s mind.

Scott looked at Alan, who was sitting behind Virgil, and rubbing his shoulder and knee. "Alan, can you help us carry him?" said Scott. "Three people would be a more secure way to get him to safety."

Alan nodded weakly. "Yes, but I'd suggest I just help with his legs," he said. "I think I've hurt myself stopping him."

The eldest frowned. "Any other injuries - you or John?" asked Scott again.

The youngest shook his head in negation. “He just hit the net. Kept him from hitting his head… just not landing on the plexiglass,” Alan said.

Virgil nodded. "I'll check it and your shoulder too after we get John sorted out," he said.

Alan nodded as the two older Tracys got on either side of their unconscious brother. Virgil put his arms under John's armpits, protecting his head. Scott put his arms underneath John's lower back and knees while Alan secured their brother at his ankles.

On the count of three, they lifted their brother, who gave a mild groan but didn't do much else. "Easy bro, you're safe," reassured Virgil, though he had a feeling John couldn't quite hear them yet. If the man did though, Virgil didn't want him to panic being carried.

They carefully moved John the rest of the walkway to an open area and placed him on the ground, trying to make him more comfortable.

Then they saw Gordon coming down the hallway. “Jacob’s ETA is about 4 minutes.”

"Understood Gordon," said Scott as he used what was in his water bottle to cool his younger brother.

Gordon kneeled next to the group as Virgil reassessed John's condition. "How's John?"

Virgil frowned as he finished checking John's pulse and eye response. "He's a bit too warm, possible heat exhaustion," he said, concerned as he and Scott then moved their brother onto the metal stretcher. "We've got to lower his temperature down."

Gordon nodded, pulling out a small cooling pack from the first aid kit as they heard running footsteps. Turning, he noticed Jacob run to their location with the larger kit, which would contain more, and larger, instant ice packs.

He then knelt next to the group. "I've closed this path to the other groups so they don't interfere," Jacob said.

"Thanks," Virgil nodded and opened up the rescue box, pulling out a cooling packs to place on John’s pulse points.

Jacob then gently grabbed John's wrist and checked his pulse. He was a certified EMT just in case there was an accident on the ship. "Gordon said you had a man down, but what exactly happened?"

Alan took a breath and explained as he helped Scott place cooling pack behind his insensible brother’s neck. "John and me were in the sickbay hallway doing the scavenger hunt… when he all of the sudden he passed out," he said. "I had to keep him from falling to the bottom of the medical storage hatch..."

Seeing Alan’s shudder, Jacob decided to distract the younger man. "Any other injuries - particularly you?" asked the ship leader gently.

The youngest brother shook his head uncertainly. "May have strained my shoulder and something in my knee… but Virg's going to check it out," he said.

"I can help - I'm an EMT," said Jacob, who gestured for the youngest to come over. He gently checked the injury as he continued. "Was there anyone or anything else affected?"

"A set of security nets tore under his weight when he fell. The plexiglas also broke, so you’ll need to replace them and check the others for age before reopening that display," said Alan, hissing slightly at the elder's ministration.

Jacob nodded. "Right now, I'm thankful they worked long enough for you to keep him from falling in," he said.

Privately, the “hangman’s humor” of his EMT side stayed mute.

Jacob had fun with people talking about the ghost in the engine room during the ghost story part of the event.

He didn't want that to actually become fact…. Even if the incident was higher up.

Feeling Alan shiver in memory, the ship leader cleared his head of the darker humor, then gently put a hand on his shoulder. "Looks like nothing's seriously hurt,” said Jacob. “I'd say use an ice pack on it and take some aspirin tonight."

Alan nodded while Virgil again took his John's vitals and checked his temperature.

He smiled softly. "The cooling packs are working some," said the medic.

As if in reply, John groaned and stirred some, partially opening his eyes.

Scott leaned over and smiled. "Hey John, how do you feel" he said simply, wanting to check John's reaction.

The astronaut winced at the metal under his back and sighed. "Fizzy," he said almost deliriously. “Am I in sick bay?”

Virgil shook his head. "Not exactly. Do you know what happened?" he said.

John tried concentrating, but it was too hard for him. He understood enough between that and the “fizzy,” feeling what that usually meant.

"I fainted… pretty certain... in the near a hatch heading from sickbay… I think?" he said, more as a question than statement.

"Yes, you did," said Virgil. "Alan called for help and we got you to safety."

The astronaut however didn't understand and winced. "Still so tired though..." he said, closing his eyes to rest.

"You're going to be - you know what fainting spells do to you," said Virgil gently, much to Jacob's confusion. "John has had issues in the past with low blood sugar."

Jacob furrowed his brow. "Does he need a glucose pack?" he asked, looking through the IR medical box.

The medic shook his head. "I don't think his collapse was from that, not with the past two days being as rough as they’ve been for him," said Virgil.

“Heat exhaustion?”

“Possibly. I think it's space sickness combined with the heat," said Virgil, putting a hand on his brother's cheek to check his temperature. "Look we need to move him back to the berth to cool him down more in private. Is there a way we can get him there with the stokes?"

John cringed… “Don’t wanna stokes,” he muttered.

His plants went unanswered as his brothers continued.

"Or having the Scouts save Sam freak out seeing him," said Gordon. Seeing Virgil's look of disapproval, he shrugged. "What? - It's true."

The ship leader however merely nodded. "Sure, there's an old sailor path through this part that leads to the berths. That's how they'd get to their stations during the service," said Jacob. "You gather up your supplies and I'll lead you through them. Most of them are air conditioned as well so they'll help cool your brother off."

The medic nodded. “Thanks," he said as he and Gordon adjusted the cooling packs on their brother. "OK John, you get to go for a little ride now,” he said, as Virgil and Scott moved him to the stokes.

John looked at his brother blearily. "Great - I hate being carried almost as much as EOS with bagels…” he said groggily.

He however then sighed as the packs cooled him further, appreciating the cool temperature against his warm skin. "Though it's worth it if she has the same coolness in the gravity ring..."

Jacob quirked an eyebrow. "You *sure* you don't want me to take him to the hospital?" he said.

Virgil also shook his head. "I don't think it's necessary. He's just more susceptible to exhaustion than the rest of us because he works in space so much.”

“But EOS…?”

“A private joke between us regarding TB5,” said Virgil. They didn’t want the AI’s existence to be known. “I think he needs just rest and fluids.”

Scott nodded. "I trust Virgil's assessment - he wasn't out long. We should be able to treat it here," he said.

The ship leader nodded. “Aye-aye - just keep me in the loop in case you need me to assist further,” he said. “My radio is on all night.”

The four conscious Tracy brothers finished gathering their items and tucked the kit onto the stokes at John's feet. On the count of three, they gently lifted the stokes, hearing their brother mumble some in protest, but didn’t try to get out.

They followed Jacob through a series of halls that lead them to the women's head and doorway to the berth, not noticing someone else was in those halls.

After gently maneuvering the basket through the doorways and down the stairs, they entered the sleeping quarters.

John still rested quietly, if a little bit annoyed as Virgil and Scott helped transfer John to his bunk.

Virgil sat on the floor next to John, who had dozed off again, and checked his vitals. "His temperature's down another couple of degrees. We can reduce the packs some so he doesn't get too chilled," he said, starting to remove them. "We'll have extras on just in case they are needed again."

Alan nodded and bundled the packs in an unused bunk to be ready for reuse while Gordon gave Virgil a light blanket to swap it out.

Scott took a close look at Virgil's reactions when he gently lifted an eyelid to check John's awareness level. "He is asleep right?" he said quietly.

Virgil nodded. "Yes, but it's a little restless physically - probably because his body is in shock from the heat and tumble," he said, adjusting the blanket over his brother.

"Could it have been exacerbated because John's pushed himself too far to come here?" asked the eldest. He felt guilty not telling John to wait a day and move TB5 to lower an elevator there instead.

"Maybe, but Scott… it isn’t your fault you know. Between yesterday and the late night and weather today…” said Virgil, but then shook his head, choosing to not continue. “Too many factors.”

He pulled out a gel pack for John's forehead and placed it on his head to gently cool it down. "As long as he stays cooling down, we’ll stay the night.”

Virgil then yawned and looked at the time. It was Tattoo, nearing the time they'd have to go to bed anyway. "Guys, we may as well turn in ourselves. I'll stay watch for the first few hours and we can swap out just in case John wakes up in a panic," said the medic.

The others nodded. "FAB Virgil. If you need us anytime, holler," said Scott.

The four uninjured Tracys, along with the Boy Scouts, college students got ready for bed and laid down in their berths. Within a half an hour they were fast asleep.

Little did they know in the next few hours, their trip through history was going to make some more history...

*A note - very minor liberties were made to the hatch: I don’t remember if there was a ladder in it or not, so I went headcanon 2060s there’s not. This is however reversed tour.

[bagoastheeunuch]

Date

HQ 3k artwork + steps process

I started this artwork so long ago, back in the summer of 2017, that I don’t even remember what the idea was. My story with original characters seems to me like a vague and unclear dream, shrouded in the fog of the past. After rereading the notes and unfinished story, I remembered that the idea was a date between two characters who loved each other, but never reconciled, separated by the morals and norms of the era in which they lived. Byzantium with its Orthodox morality considered same-sex relationships sinful, and although in real life few followed this (hiding), there were those who, out of fear of public censure, rejected their nature, to the detriment of themselves and those who had the misfortune of loving them. This is what happened to these two people. A young man named Heraclius (he is very religious, trying to be right in everything) was in love with Eleutherius, a eunuch of extraordinary and rare beauty, who served the senator Eubulus, for whom Heraclius also worked as a bodyguard. And since Heraclius was heterosexual, he was enchanted by the eunuch's feminine beauty, but he was upset, knowing that Eleutherius was actually a young man. And a eunuch at that. He had been brought up in an environment that disdained eunuchs as unworthy and deformed creatures, unmanly, and having all the shortcomings attributed to female in ancient and then Christian society. Only the imperial power valued eunuchs and placed them on an honorable level, while the common people and the army despised and hated them. It was very difficult for me to describe these moments. The story pays much attention to the social problem, which, in fact, has not changed since then, in relation to eunuchs, intersex people and people of the third gender. Heraclius could not come to terms with his feelings. Love becomes stronger every day, but the dark ghost of the past does not give him peace. He remembers how in childhood he saw the death of his classmate Alexius; the body of the dead eunuch, who threw himself off a cliff and crashed on the sharp rocks on the seashore. What was sad was that he saw how people around him mocked Alexius and did nothing. He did not understand why people and other children treated the poor boy so badly, but he could not prevent it. A series of traumatic events led to tragedy. Alexius died. And Heraclius felt guilty for not doing anything to prevent this from happening. This tragic event was so deeply etched in Heraclius' mind that as an adult he continued to have nightmares about Alexius and felt a certain fear of everything connected with it.

The beautiful Eleftherios reminded him of Alexius, and this aggravated his painful feeling.

Heraclius was a married man, but his marriage did not bring him happiness. It was not that he did not love his wife Agatha, on the contrary, he tried for the family and did the best.

He thought that even if Eleutherius were a woman, he would not be able to be with them as a family man. Alas, he did not know that his wife was unfaithful to him and cheated on him with his best friend, a homophobic and the two-faced man Constantine.

Eleutherius had the gift of clairvoyance, he saw the past and the future, and working as a bodyguard for Senator Eubulus, he prevented several assassination attempts. He also perfectly saw Heraclius' past, as well as the essence of other people, which caused him strong mental pressure. The weight of negative, sad, and even terrible thoughts, emotions, and actions of other people made Eleftherios a misanthrope, not believing in the possibility of redemption of human vices, not believing in love and the good nature of human. Deeply disappointed with humanity, he had every reason to become a villain, but nevertheless, he himself followed the path of goodness and forgiveness.

So, gradually, Heraclius' love for Eleutherius acquires a spiritual meaning, but it was impossible for him to get rid of his vices and mistakes, and Eleftherios, finally disappointed in people and Heraclius, he left worldly life and went to the monks, becoming a recluse in the mountain monastery.

But even then, the world did not abandon Eleutherius - he became known as a saint, and the gift of a clairvoyant attracted even more crowds of sufferers to the monastery. Out of mercy, Eleutherius spoke to people through a window behind a screen, and one day, Heraclius was among the visitors. Broken, sad, sickly. His world collapsed when he learned the truth. His wife had cheated on him with his friend Constantine, and had become pregnant from the affair. She had confessed this to him herself, on her deathbed, in agony, as she gave birth to a child. And Constantine had been imprisoned for organizing criminal activity and sentenced to death. Thus, Heraclius's eyes were opened to the truth. Eleutherius sympathized and said that there was always hope if you chose the path of goodness, not vice. He remained true to his vow, and Heraclius, thoughtful, went home, with a child in his arms, which is not even his, but born by his wife from his traitorous friend, the fruit of sin and vices of others and himself. But Eleutherius said, there is always hope if you chose the path of goodness.

To be honest, I gradually began to hate this story, it dragged on for a long time, darkly, building up hopelessness and depression. Initially, I was inspired by history, and some of the historical novels, the plot is completely fictional, and the characters are my original. To write this, I had to study a lot of material, and the genre itself was not entertaining and fun. In general, I never finished this story, and my detailed text ends at the first meeting of Heraclius with Eleutherius. I returned to this artwork from time to time, in the end, I drew it for 8 years.

[diarylogbook08]

📓 The Diary Log Archives

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